Petal By Petal Blossoms the Rose
by tiaoconnell
Summary: Rose Holmes, younger sister of Mycroft & Sherlock, is a force to be reckoned with. Intelligent, emotional, prone to finding mischief at every turn, she lives life her own way, keeping everyone in the 221B family on their toes & Mycroft in a state of constant worry, but they wouldn't have her any other way! SEQUEL to A Rose Blooms in Baker Street. Includes disciplinary spankings!
1. Sherlock's 8 Simple Rules

NOTE: This story is a sequel to "A Rose Blooms in Baker Street." You will understand this story better having read that one first, since it picks up from right where the first ended.

* * *

Mycroft Holmes entered the hospital and headed for his sister's room after a brief consultation with the registrar. Lestrade had never bothered to respond to his text so god only knew what was wrong with her, but luckily his meeting had broken up fairly quickly, allowing him to make haste to the hospital.

Standing outside Rose's room, Sherlock saw his brother approaching and decided to give her and John a little bit of assistance in the Mycroft department. It wasn't his secret to tell, but they deserved a chance to mount a reasonable argument to Mycroft's objections at a time when Rose was not in pain. "Don't go in there yet, Rose was being examined by the doctors," he told Mycroft.

"Rose! Mycroft is here, are you decent?" Sherlock called.

Inside the room John and Rose leapt away from one another. She let out a groan of pain at the sudden jerk. John moved to a chair near the hospital bed and both tried to look very casual as Rose called for them to enter.

"I should get going," Greg admitted, sticking his head briefly into Rose's room. "I'll text and see how you're doing later. Behave," he warned, giving her a wink before making his exit.

Mycroft entered the room, his eyes looking her over, surprised that for the most part she looked well, other than the obvious signs of being in pain. Sweat on her brow, face paler than normal and pinched with pain, but otherwise appeared to be none the worse for wear. "Alright poppet, what have you done this time?" he asked in a weary voice once the DI had departed.

"Someone tampered with my chair at work and I fell rather hard," Rose told him before proceeding to bite her lip.

"Yes and that _absolutely_ requires being conveyed to hospital in a police car with lights and sirens," Mycroft replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "The whole of it, if you please, Rosenwyn." He cocked an eyebrow at her and watched as Rose averted her eyes and continued to chew on her lip.

"Well, I uh… Er…" The words were right on the tip of her tongue but Rose struggled to get them out knowing Mycroft would have an utter fit.

"Sometime _today_ Rosenwyn," Mycroft ordered in a firm tone. "I do have other things to do than sit here and metaphorically pull teeth trying to get information out of you. Clearly, you've done something wrong or you wouldn't be this reluctant to tell me. Since I am already aware that I will be displeased with you, you might as well just tell me and get it done with."

"I probably have broken ribs. I've been sore for weeks because of practice and got hurt Tuesday night, possibly breaking a rib. I was going to go in to see a doctor today, but I had to get the competition done first," Rose explained. "It's really not as bad as it sounds." She looked up at Mycroft nervously, trying to gauge his reaction from subtle facial cues. "And John shouted at me already."

John snorted in disbelief as she tried, yet again, to dismiss the seriousness of her choices but said nothing further. The look on Mycroft's face told him that they were in perfect accord on Rose's lapse in judgment and frankly, even if he had already shouted at her, it wouldn't hurt Rose to hear what an idiot she'd been multiple times.

"Oh, _shouting_ was there? I can promise you that there will be a great deal more than shouting whenever you are deemed healed by a medical professional. My god Rose," Mycroft muttered, shaking his head. "You never, ever learn, do you? No matter, I shall continue to teach you over and over and _over_ again until it finally manages to lodge itself in that mind of yours. Safety is _non-negotiable_. Do you have any idea the amount of damage you could have done to yourself? Internal bleeding, puncture lung, I'm certain Dr. Watson can recite any number of other possibilities of medical concern that might have arisen."

Rose's eyes shifted downward but Mycroft was having none of that. Reaching out to grasp her chin, he lifted her head so she would be forced to look at him. "Eyes on me, Rosenwyn." He waited until she complied before continuing. "This has to be one of the stupidest things you have ever done, and considering the trials and tribulations of your childhood that is saying something, sister mine. You would try the patience of a saint and I am certainly no saint. You are in _very_ serious trouble."

"Is it safe for me to come in yet?" A new voice called before moving the curtain. "I'm Leon and I'm supposed to take the patient to x-ray if this is a good time." Everyone had been a bit hesitant to come to the room, considering all the shouting and the number of people that had accumulated. Leon had taken the departure of the policeman as a good sign and went into the breach… er, room.

"Now would be a perfect time!" Rose happily said. Anything to get out from under Mycroft's glare!

* * *

"Well, you do in fact have three broken ribs," Dr. Colburn announced. He snuck a side-eye glance at the three glowering men in the room, wondering once more about his patient's safety. If look could kill…, as the clichéd saying went.

"You haven't met the cohort," Rose stated after catching the doctor's look. "They're not a bad lot. My brothers, Mycroft and Sherlock, who always feel the need to swoop down in all their glaring glory whenever I manage to bang myself up," she explained. "Other one is Dr. John Watson, Sherlock's best friend and flatmate who lives next door to me and, quite obviously, considers me his patient."

"A particularly unwilling and uncooperative one at that," John added. "And you should thank your lucky stars you didn't have multiple breaks within those ribs!" The complications that could have come from flail chest or the puncturing of organs such as her lung or spleen were very serious.

"Dr. Watson is quite right," Dr. Colburn said with a nod. "You're very lucky that the breaks of ribs 7-9 are clean and there is only a single break per rib. I'm afraid you'll need to rest for six weeks, and truly rest. Get plenty of sleep, no strenuous activity, and use ice and heat as needed to help with the pain. I'll prescribe you some pain killers as well and I'm certain Dr. Watson will take very good care of you at home."

John nodded. "She'll do exactly as she's told," he assured the other doctor. "Won't you Rose?" He gave her a look that promised retribution if she didn't take this seriously.

"I will," Rose sincerely assured them all. "Despite all evidence to the contrary I don't like being injured, nor do I want another punctured lung."

"Very good! I'll send your prescription to the pharmacy here and have the nurses begin your discharge paperwork. Check in regularly with your doctor to make certain your ribs are healing properly," Dr. Colburn advised. He gave her a smile, looked suspiciously at the still glowering men, and then departed the room for the final time.

"Only you, Rosenwyn," Mycroft said with a sigh when the doctor departed. "Only you can damage yourself enough for six weeks recovery in an office job; an _office job_!"

"Well, practice too," Rose grumbled, her face flushing with embarrassment. As if she would actually injure herself at the office to such an extent without the assistance of repeated dropping and that cow Sally Donovan's chair tampering!

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Yes, I do not need any help at all recalling that you competed yesterday with one broken rib, Rosenwyn. You have outdone yourself this time, sister mine."

Rose sighed heavily, her face burning red. "If I rest up this afternoon, can we still go out for dinner?" she asked Mycroft hopefully.

A chorus of "NO!" greeted her request.

"Little girls who hurt themselves and don't bother to seek medical attention or tell someone about it don't get celebratory dinners," Mycroft said firmly. "London's best eateries are not going anywhere, we shall find another time when you are healed more and better behaved."

Oh how she _hated _it when he said things like that! Would he ever lose the ability to make her feel like a naughty five-year-old despite whatever age she happened to be? Damn Mycroft and his… Mycroftness. Rose turned her head away and grumbled something under her breath; a mere whisper.

A dark eyebrow arched. "Would you care to repeat that?" Mycroft asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Not really, no," Rose muttered. She had been hoping he wouldn't hear her softly utter the word _dick_ but apparently he had. _Note to self_, she thought, _think the words, not say them_. Although, given who her brothers were, they'd probably know from the subtle shift of her eyes or the manner in which she held a cup of coffee that she'd cursed at them in her head.

"Mm hmm," Mycroft murmured. "I thought not. Honestly Rose, try and mitigate the trouble you're in, not add to it."

"Why do you always have to say things like that?" Rose asked, her face still red with embarrassment. "'Little girls blah blah blah.' I'm not a stupid child, My." She shifted her gaze to her hands, or at least attempted to. Mycroft had other ideas, and she allowed him to tip her head up to look into her eyes.

"I think you only dislike it because you know it's true. I wouldn't say it if it wasn't deserved," Mycroft pointed out. "You cannot sincerely argue that your actions were responsible and adult in this situation and you know that. The fact that you don't like being called to task is no reason to take your frustrations out on me in such a disrespectful manner."

"I just… it's like you're goading me when you do that!" Rose exclaimed.

"Because you have a very hard head, sister mine, and I must use every avenue of persuasion to force you to acknowledge the gravity of your misbehavior," Mycroft countered. "Consider yourself very lucky, Rose, that you won't be getting your mouth washed out. It is only in consideration of your present condition that you are receiving a pass in this case. I promise you that I shall not be so lenient if there is a next time."

Rose nodded. "I'm sorry," she told him sincerely. "And I understand. May I also point out that I think it's morphine they are pumping into me? Can't be held responsible for my actions." A little smile accompanied that statement, drawing a slight smile from her big brother as well.

"I just wish you'd have a care for yourself, my dear," Mycroft said softly. He pressed a kiss to the top of her curly head. "I must return to work but I will check in on you later Rose. Please be a cooperative patient and rest as you should. I'd prefer to keep you around, even if I do worry about you constantly."

* * *

"Not a word of complaint from you," John said firmly. "Not a single-" he paused to kiss her forehead. "Solitary-" John kissed her nose this time. "Word." This time his lips brushed Rose's gently as he enveloped her in his arms.

"This has to be against the Geneva Conventions," Rose murmured when the kiss broke. "Using undue influence and bribery in such a manner so as to gain my cooperation."

John laughed, his whole face lighting up. "The Geneva Conventions are for prisoners of war, love. You're merely a prisoner of Baker Street, and thus exempted from protection by those coveted guidelines. You're _my _prisoner, though, if we're going to be specific."

"Still no coverage under the Conventions?" Rose inquired, gazing up at him with a cheeky smile.

"I'm going to start a war, take you both prisoner, and completely ignore the Geneva Conventions if you don't stop snogging on the stairs and pick a flat to enter by the time I reach ten," Sherlock threatened. "One…"

Rose snorted with laughter, cringing mere seconds later at the discomfort her laughter caused. Sadly it had _not_ been morphine in her IV drip. "We're being counted at John. If he makes it to ten, we're in really big trouble," she teased, managing a weak smile as the wave of pain passed.

"Two, three, four!" Sherlock counted quickly.

"Getting a little anxious there mate? That's the fastest count I've ever heard," John snickered. "Pajamas for you love, and then bring a pillow with you to our flat. I'm going to tuck you in on the couch and even make you some coffee."

"Five, six, seven, eight!"

Chuckling, John gently turned Rose in the direction of her front door, sending her on her way with a gentle smack on her bottom before unlocking his own door.

"You really must refrain from doing that," Sherlock commented as he half-stomped inside the flat. "And before you point out to me that I said I approved this relationship, which I do in fact remember quite clearly, it is not for that reason that I urge restraint. I need to sweep both flats for listening devices and cameras. Mycroft will take things better if he doesn't learn about it from a cleverly placed camera."

That stopped John short and he prayed to whoever might be listening that there was no camera on the stairs.

"There isn't," Sherlock said, as if reading his mind. Immediately he began searching the flat from top to bottom, starting with the bookcase.

"Are all your books going on the floor?" Rose asked when she appeared in their sitting room. "That's not a very nice way to treat your books you know."

"He's systematically destroying our flat in order to find and remove any of Mycroft's hidden devices," John explained. "I'm merely relieved he's doing it for a good cause and not boredom." He cringed as the entire bookcase fell over, taking Sherlock with it.

"A little assistance John," Sherlock called.

"If you toppled it over, you can pick it up," John retorted as he tucked Rose in snuggly on the couch. It was, thankfully, further away from the ensuing disaster on the other end of the flat.

Rose frowned, peering around John, only to find her brother underneath the bookcase. She had half expected him to be standing beside it, glaring petulantly at the piece of furniture for daring to fall over while he was abusing it. "Oh," she said quietly, frowning. "That was slightly unexpected."

"I'm being stabbed, it's painful, and this is a surprisingly heavy bookcase that I will from now on think twice about scaling," Sherlock assured them.

"You're being stabbed by the hardcovers? Told you it wasn't nice to treat books that way. They're just having a bit of revenge," Rose teased.

"JAWWWWWWWWN!" Sherlock shouted, drawing his flatmate's name out.

"For god sakes," the doctor grumbled, finally turning to see what Sherlock was whining about now. For a moment he could only stare at the sight of the bookcase, fully fallen over on its front, revealing bits and pieces of his flatmate. An arm clad in a purple button-up sticking out one side, a socked foot on the other and a mop of curly hair just barely visible beneath the dark wood."Serves you right! I ought to leave you there, see if it teaches you not to destroy the flat ever again! Clearly it's had enough and taken its revenge."

"GET ME OUT JAWWWWWWWN!" The half-demand, half-plea came out in a petulant tone. "Damn books. I could have damage to my spine, where is my faithful assistant who happens to be a doctor when I need him?"

"Colleague," John pointed out. "I'm your colleague. I work with you, not for you."

"Fine, where is my blogger who happens to be a doctor while I lie here battered and broken?" Sherlock amended.

"This is where you get it from, isn't it?" John asked, turning to look at Rose. "The whinging and dramatics, he taught you all that, didn't he?"

Rose grinned. "I'll never tell! Though actually do help him up, I'm sure he's learned his lesson by now. Right Sherlock?"

Before the disgruntled consulting detective could fire off a suitably scathing response to his impertinent little sister, John began hefting the bookcase up. When there was enough room to do so, Sherlock wiggled out from under it and promptly held out three small cameras. "A thank you wouldn't be remiss," he commented, a bit miffed that it had taken John so long to come to his aid.

"Apologize to the books first," Rose suggested with a mischievous grin. "You hurt their feelings. Books are _very _sensitive creatures Sherlock. Go on; tell them you're sorry for manhandling them."

In lieu of an apology to the books, Sherlock merely tossed the cameras in her direction, smirking when they pelted Rose and caused her to squeal in alarm.

* * *

"I don't know whether to be impressed at how seriously he takes the matter of our safety, or concerned and slightly angry," Rose decided. There on the coffee table were a total of fifteen cameras found throughout the two flats.

"Just about the only place without cameras was the loo," Sherlock admitted. "I think he's upped the number in the hopes that I may find and disable one, then proceed to assume that I have taken care of the issue.

John looked at Sherlock in alarm. Were there cameras in his bedroom? Was Mycroft Holmes aware of each and every sexual conquest since he moved in? Granted, his sex life had never been particularly rigorous during that time, but he wasn't a monk either! "How many of these were in my bedroom? And how long has it been since you swept for them last?"

"Two. One looking towards the door, the other looking towards the window, neither of which had your bed under surveillance. I'm fairly certain that Mycroft would have no interest in your sex life whatsoever, provided you don't bring a terrorist or other person of great interest to him back here and into your room," Sherlock replied. He was trying to be reassuring but the look on John's face told him he really hadn't been.

"Though I am certain after the events of this morning that you will no longer have any need to bring other women into our flat," Sherlock continued on. "I'm sure it goes without saying that you will be faithful to my sister."

John swore under his breath. "Sherlock… Geez, this really isn't… You have no idea what the meaning of awkward is, do you?" He pinned his flatmate with a hard look, trying to telepathically communicate that this wasn't the time or place to make threats about what would be done to him if he dared to hurt Rose in any way.

Sherlock huffed, looking offended. "Of _course_ I know the definition of 'awkward.' It is an adjective with two meanings. The first is causing difficulty or hard to deal with; something that is awkward in the physical sense. The second meaning is to cause or feel embarrassed or inconvenienced. Please trust me when I say John that your embarrassment or inconvenience means very little to me when we are discussing my sister. My _beloved_ sister," he reminded the man.

"Your beloved sister is going to cuff you upside the head in a minute if you don't hush," Rose warned. "For heaven sakes Sherlock, that is something for John and I to discuss and decide. Monogamy is not settled by the brother of one of the involved parties."

Dark eyebrows quickly rose and disappeared underneath unruly curls and Sherlock's mouth fell open. He looked, essentially, scandalized. "You do not expect John to remain faithful to you?! Do you not consider yourself worthy of faithfulness from your partner? Rose, you-"

"SHERLOCK!" Rose shouted, immediately wincing. She tried very hard to hide the annoyance from her tone as she carefully crafted her response. "I do consider myself worthy of faithfulness," she assured him. "But what I am trying to say is that it is my concern, not yours, brother dear. I will ask John to cleave only unto me when I'm ready to do so, not before, and all by myself. Though frankly, knowing John, I'm pretty sure that goes without saying."

"Look, mate, this is really new and Rose and I haven't had a chance to talk about anything at all," John added, his tone quiet and sincere. "While what happens between Rose and I is between us and us alone, I want you to know Sherlock that I will treat Rose with great respect. Not just because she's your sister and you're my best friend," John cautioned. "But because she deserves respect and will give it to me in return."

Rose blushed prettily at his words. Immediately she reached for John's hand and squeezed it gently. "Let us sort ourselves out a bit, alright? I adore you for all your indignant outrage on my behalf though Sherlock. Honestly, you are the best of brothers," she said, giving him a bright smile. "But we have no idea what we're doing yet."

Sherlock nodded slowly, his expression grave. "Then perhaps now would be a good time to go over the rules, so that you have a starting point," he decided.

"Rules?!" Rose and John said in unison.

"Yes, there will be rules. Both of you be quiet and listen," Sherlock ordered sternly. "First and foremost, The Work comes first. I don't care what you're doing together, when I need my blogger I shall have him."

John opened his mouth to remind Sherlock that he did not come at the man's beck and call (most of the time!) but a firm squeeze of his hand from Rose warned him to think better of it.

"Bring her home at reasonable hours of the night and always respect _her_ work the way you would respect ours John," Sherlock continued.

"When you engage in sexual relations you will please refrain from doing so on the kitchen table. It would disturb if not completely ruin my experiments. Really, just keep all sexual relations in your flat Rose, so I don't have to hear them. I would like to pretend that such activities will never occur," he admitted.

"This is a nightmare," Rose muttered. She could feel the warmth of embarrassment on her face. "It has to be a nightmare."

"Clothing will remain on and properly in place while I am in the room," Sherlock continued on, ignoring her mutterings.

"So you're not going to walk around in a sheet with no pants on anymore?" John asked with a chuckle.

"John I am being entirely serious here. I don't want to see either of you together in various stages of undress with your hands all over one another. If you wouldn't do it in front of your sister, don't do it in front of _me_ with _my_ sister!" Sherlock gave his flatmate a warning look, as if daring John to disagree with such a reasonable request.

Rose's face was completely scarlet by this time she readily turned her face away from Sherlock, uncertain whether to laugh, cry, or hit him. His concern was touching and sweet, but he was embarrassing her- both her and John- and it was really enough. "Please, Sherlock. We will be respectful of your boundaries, but can we end this conversation now? Before my face bursts into flames at the fact that my _brother_ is essentially dictating the terms of my presently non-existent sex life?"

This time it was Sherlock's turn to go completely red faced. "Fine," he said with a petulant huff. "But I reserve the right to change those rules at any time I see fit. I also reserve the right to do horrible experiments with John's dead body if he hurts you."

"Terms accepted," John spoke up. He offered his hand to Sherlock to shake on it as a man of honor. He certainly had no plans to do anything inappropriate with Rose, let alone in front of Sherlock, but if it made his best friend feel better to have his word on that, John would readily give it.

"At least both of us know what we're getting into," Rose reflected thoughtfully after the men shook hands. "No surprises for you about what my brothers are like and no surprises for me about what your flatmate is like."

Though his face was still faintly red, John couldn't help returning her smile. "Acute embarrassment aside, I think that went reasonably well." He paused a moment and then said very softly, "Cleave only unto you, hm? Quite dramatic, that."

"The formality of it seemed appropriate in that moment. I like fancy words and words from eras gone by; you know this already," Rose told him with a pout. "Don't tease."

"Alright, I won't tease this time," he relented. "But what I am going to do is tuck you into bed. Rest, rest, rest, is all that's on your agenda at the moment. You'll stay here, in case you need anything, so head into your brother's room and I'll be right there with some ice. Sherlock, you'll have to-"

"Sleep on the lie-low, yes. Thank you John for so punctiliously illuminating the obvious for me," Sherlock interrupted impatiently. He artfully dodged a pillow tossed his way before heading into the kitchen to check on an experiment as Rose exited the sitting room.

When John entered the room a few moments later with a pack of ice, Rose was already under the covers. "I brought arnica cream as well," he told her, holding up the items in his hands. With great care he lifted her pajama top only as much as was necessary to expose her injured side and oh-so-carefully ghosted the healing cream onto her bruises.

"I have to say, I admire your strength," John said quietly. "You must have been in significant pain the last few days and been in moderate pain for the few weeks preceding this one. Only a person of great strength soldiers on like that, as though she doesn't have a care in the world but her goals. I admire that."

Rose smiled softly, watching him doctor her. He was so skilled that she hardly felt a thing. "That almost sounds like a compliment," she murmured when he capped the cream.

"Oh, it very much is. But while I admire your strength, I'm still going to spank the daylights out of you for being a complete idiot. A rather adorable idiot, but an idiot all the same," John said firmly. He leaned over to kiss her softly, just a quick brush of his lips against hers, to soothe the sting from his words.

She let out a sigh. "I've gathered that, yeah." Rose winced slightly when he placed the ice pack on her side and rested her hand against it to keep it in place.

"You'll be alright," John promised as he gently moved curls away from her face. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Whether he meant her bum or her side Rose wasn't entirely sure, but she took comfort from his words all the same.


	2. Mycroft & the Key to Good Recovery

After departing the hospital, Greg Lestrade had returned to his department, a grim look of determination on his face. It was a look many of his officers knew and it did not bode well for the person who had earned it. It was his, 'I'm angry and I'm going to do something about it' face, indicating someone was in for an official reprimand and dressing down.

He was a good boss, an excellent mentor to new officers, a fair but firm head of a department, and a man with an excellent sense of humor that rarely, if ever, held a grudge. If someone's mistake could be easily correct with a stern look and a firm warning rather than making it an official part of someone's record, he much preferred to handle things in that manner. He firmly believed that those cases were learning opportunities and to crack down hard on every little mistake would be counterproductive and breed resentment. When Greg Lestrade put his foot down about something, everyone took notice because only a serious mistake or offense would truly earn his ire. And Sally Donovan had more than earned it this time.

For more than an hour, roughly coinciding with Rose's x-rays and scoldings at St. Bart's, Greg sat in his office, thinking long and hard while trying to reign in his temper. Despite her faults, Sally Donovan really was a good officer and they'd done a lot of good work together. He didn't want to lose her skills permanently and in reality, a cruel prank wasn't enough to justify a transfer anyway. Still, something would have to be done.

Getting up from his desk, Greg opened the door of his office and locked eyes with Sally. "My office," he directed. Leaving the door open he sat on the edge of his desk, a stern look on his face that only grew when Sally closed the door and took a seat. "So," he began. "Was I not clear enough on Wednesday? Because I can't think of one good reason why you would blatantly disregard something I told you to do, I must have been misunderstood. Was I unclear? Were you confused?" An eyebrow arched as he paused and waited for an answer.

Sally swallowed hard and shook her head. "No sir, you were very clear and I was not confused. I apologize. That was what I forgot on Wednesday night, to tell the janitor not to try and 'fix' the chair after all."

"Alright, so not only did it conveniently slip your mind and add to a co-worker's already existing injuries, but you sought the assistance of the janitor in your childish little prank war. This wasn't just a prank Sally. This is intentionally cruel," Greg scolded. "Now I know you didn't realize she was already injured- apparently no one did-" He paused to shake his head. "But that little stunt could have injured her all the same. If she had fallen funny on her wrist it might have snapped; she could have hit the floor hard enough with her head to get a concussion. Any number of things could have happened."

"I realize that sir and I apologize. I didn't think it through very well when I set that up," Sally admitted, sounding rather ashamed of herself. "But I wasn't actually trying to injure her."

"No, just embarrass her, right?" Greg asked. When she gave a little nod he continued on. "What you two were doing before was childish but overall harmless until the witness statements were tampered with. I asked you both to stop, I sanctioned you both-"

"Funny, I was the only one in the archives yesterday," Sally commented, an edge of defiance in her tone.

Greg rolled his eyes. "I was trying to keep it unofficial for you both. While you got to spend some time being bored but still getting paid for your time here, I notified Rose's brother of the incident and asked him to handle it. I'm certain it was very uncomfortable for her to be called to task by her brother at the age of twenty, if not a bit humiliating as well, whether or not that was accompanied by..." He cleared his throat. "A rather traditional form of discipline."

Sally was confused for a moment before it dawned on her what he might possibly mean, which indicated that her young co-worker had not been handed over to Sherlock but to the other one and might actually have gotten into trouble. The thought of it was satisfying, to say the least.

"Yeah, try not to look so pleased about Sally," Greg snapped at her. "Rose is twenty, readily assumed responsibility for her actions and stopped what she was doing. You, on the other hand, are a sergeant, reluctantly admitted responsibility and didn't bother to take notice that I told you to 'stop.' And I don't really care if you forgot to tell the janitor to forget about the chair or not, that was not a harmless prank. I'm incredibly disappointed Sally. You're better than this; I _know _you are."

That, perhaps more than anything hit home with Sally and her eyes shifted away from her boss. "I apologize," she said quietly. "And I mean that. I didn't actually want to injure her and I am sorry that I did. Will she be alright?"

Greg nodded. "She'll live, provided her brothers and John Watson don't off her in the meantime," he said with a slight chuckle. He quickly sobered though and let out a heavy sigh. "Given the seriousness of this, the fact that you deliberately did something that might hurt a co-worker and disregarded directives from me, I can't let this go with a day of enforced boredom. This will go on your official record Sally and there's really no way around that. Additionally I will offer you a choice: two week suspension without pay or an accumulation of a month's hours in the archives. If you're not needed up here, you'd be there."

Sally took a deep breath and gave herself a moment to consider her options. "I'd prefer to work in the archives here, sir, rather than forego two weeks pay. I'm sorry it came to this," she said sincerely.

"I am too," Greg admitted. "Monday then you can start in the archives unless I need you up here. From now on, please try to get along with Rose. She's not a bad kid and does really good work. She's been a great help around here… and she's not Sherlock," he added.

"I'll do my best," Sally told him sincerely.

* * *

"Tea?" John asked his flatmate while pouring himself a cup. It was getting on towards supper time and felt like the perfect time to have some tea and contemplate what he might make or what they preferred for takeaway.

"Mmm."

That, as John well knew, could indicate either a yes or a no, but he was willing to bet it was a yes this time. He poured a second cup of tea and set it down by Sherlock, well out of the way of the microscope and whatever potentially dangerous thing his flatmate was doing. He spared a glance at the sleeping figure on the couch, a smile settling on his face. Rose; _his _Rose. His _insane_ Rose. That girl was going to keep him on his toes and make his life a whirlwind.

"I still can't believe you're perfectly okay with this," John murmured. "You've always discouraged anyone she's shown interest in at all."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sat up with a sigh. "Her previous suitors were idiots," he explained. "You're reasonably intelligent, care about her, and have already demonstrated that you won't let her do whatever she feels like doing if it puts her safety in jeopardy. Those are all very good qualities that I would look for in any potential partner for Rose.

"She needs a partner John. A real partner, in every way, but one that understand she needs a firm hand now and again," he continued. "Somehow I don't think her impulsiveness and general disregard for her own safety will ever dissipate with age and I, for one, feel better knowing you understand how to handle her without it making you see her as a lesser partner in a relationship."

John stared at his flatmate, unable to help feeling a bit shocked. They never talked like this. They talked about loads of things, sometimes things that involved more information than either of them was comfortable with, but not like _this_. This was an important moment in their friendship and John couldn't help being a little bit floored that Sherlock placed so much trust him when it came to Rose.

"Mycroft is the one you need to worry about. They're different than Rose and I are," Sherlock commented.

"Because you two have been partners in crime at various times when she was growing up?" John asked, grinning.

Sherlock nodded. "I may put my foot down when needed with her, but yes; we'll always be co-conspirators of Mycroft's discomfort. But I don't consider her _mine_ the way Mycroft does. As I said, they are different. They fit parameters."

John wasn't entirely certain he knew what Sherlock meant by that, but he merely nodded and drank some of his tea. Sherlock would elaborate if he felt so inclined. "Any advice on the Mycroft front?" Normally Sherlock was the last person John would seek advice from, particularly in terms of social cues and dating, but this was one area in which Sherlock could give him vital information in those areas.

"When Mycroft resists- and he _will_ resist- be patient with them both. Do not under any circumstances pressure Rose to choose between the two of you," Sherlock warned. "It would cause her great pain to be forced to do that and I don't think you would emerge victorious in that situation. If anything, it might make Rose feel inclined to disappear again and I would avoid that at all costs."

Surprisingly enough John didn't feel injured that Sherlock felt Rose would not choose him over Mycroft. In fact, that gave him tremendous insight into the complexity of the relationship between the eldest and littlest Holmes.

"Considering how well she and Mycroft have healed the rifts that existed before her disappearance, Rose is unlikely to do anything that would jeopardize their relationship, no matter how much she might in fact love you," Sherlock went on. "If it takes some time for Mycroft to warm up to the idea of your relationship, and you really care about her as much as I believe you do, be patient. She cannot bear to truly disappoint Mycroft."

John looked thoughtful as he digested his best friend's words. "Something must have gone very, _very _wrong between them for her to disappear for eighteen months."

"Rose was very hurt, far more than even I realized, and Mycroft was rather oblivious to it," Sherlock admitted. "From what I've gathered, she left to prove to Mycroft that she was not all the things he accused her of. I'm fairly certain her time away wasn't all fun and full of adventure, considering the way she hedges around the subject and offers little in terms of information outside of her stays in Luxembourg and Geneva."

His gaze flickered over to the couch where Rose still lay sleeping. John felt his heart contract painfully at the thought of Rose enduring a self-enforced exile and the sort of hurt she must have felt to do so. "Thank you for telling me this," he told Sherlock sincerely. "I won't put her in that situation. I'd much rather step back, if necessary, than cause a serious rift between Rose and Mycroft again."

Sherlock nodded, looking pleased. "Mycroft is overly sentimental when it comes to Rose, so be patient with him as well. Though that may be incredibly difficult, given that Mycroft is _Mycroft_."

John chuckled. "I'll do my best Sherlock; you've got my word of honor on that."

"Excellent! Though do remember that it wouldn't do to cross me either. I will be watching," Sherlock warned.

The doctor wasn't entirely certain whether or not he should be alarmed by that statement or comforted by it but wisely chose not to ask for what exactly it was Sherlock would be watching for.

* * *

'Rose isn't answering her phone. M'

'I'm aware. She is sleeping. Why are you bothering me? SH'

'I shan't be able to come to Baker Street until tomorrow afternoon. M'

'The world weeps with great sorrow at this pronouncement. SH'

'Just pass the message along to Rose, if you please. M'

'And if I don't please? SH'

Mycroft rolled his eyes and sighed as he typed a response. 'I suppose "Because I said so" would not be a sufficient reason? M'

'Nope. SH'

'Tell Rose because she'll feel forgotten if I don't show this evening. M'

'I suppose. Only for her, mind you. SH'

'Thank you. M'

'Now leave me alone already. SH'

"Arguing with your brother again?" John asked, looking over at his flatmate with a grin.

Sherlock scowled. "How did you know?"

"You have a particularly heavy-handed texting habit when you're arguing with Mycroft," John shrugged. "I see things too."

"Mmm. Perhaps there's hope for you yet," Sherlock replied sarcastically.

* * *

Mycroft arrived just past noon the next day, opening the door of the flat without knocking first, as per usual, earning a glare from Sherlock.

"Knocking would be nice," John commented with a sigh. "I'm about to make tea. Would you like a cup Mycroft?"

"I'm sure it would be but it's unlikely to happen," Mycroft replied. He placed a brightly wrapped package on the kitchen table and nodded at the doctor's offer of tea before turning his gaze to the littlest Holmes. Rose was stretched out on the couch, propped up against one of the arms, sound asleep. "Some things clearly never change," Mycroft stated with a put-upon sigh. "I'm not certain if I should be comforted by that fact or annoyed."

"You know how she is. "It's lonely all alone in the bedroom; I'll be so good if you let me be out here!"" The consulting detective mimicked his sister's voice. "John assured me that as long as she is resting, relaxing, and sleeps as much as her body needs, there's little difference between the couch and the bed. Since you weren't here to tie her to the bed, I deferred to John's medical expertise."

"Sherlock," Mycroft hissed, giving his brother an indignant scowl. "That is quite enough."

"Tie her to the bed?" John repeated. "This sounds like I story I need to hear." He passed Mycroft a cup of tea before leaning back against the counter, giving the Holmes boys an expectant look. There just _had _to be a hilarious story connected to that statement, as most of the stories of Rose's childhood were.

"The circumstances warranted it," Mycroft stated.

Sherlock laughed, a devilish smile settling on his face. "Mother didn't find that circumstances warranted it all, even if Rose _did _have a habit of wandering and you _were_ rather desperate. In fact, if I remember correctly, Mother even threatened you Mycroft."

"Sherlock that is _enough_," Mycroft growled.

The consulting detective was not to be deterred by Mycroft's growling and dark look. "Something along the lines of 'If you ever do that again, I will take you into your own office and bend you over your own desk for a hiding you won't soon forget.' Sound about right, brother mine?" Sherlock smirked delightedly until Mycroft, whose face was particularly red, slapped him upside the head.

"My, why are you hitting Sherlock?" Rose called sleepily from the couch.

Mycroft quickly turned his attention away from Sherlock and crossed the room to Rose. He leaned down to kiss the top of her head before tucking a few curls behind her ear. "How are you feeling? Are you being a cooperative patient for the good doctor?"

"I'm tired a lot, but I think that's the pain medication," Rose admitted. "And I'm being so cooperative you wouldn't even recognize me."

"For the moment anyway," Mycroft challenged, arching an eyebrow at her.

Rose blushed and let out a sigh. "Alright, so I wasn't the best behaved patient in the world last time around, but I've resolved to change my ways."

"Really? Wouldn't that be something," he murmured. "But six weeks is a very long time. Are you certain you'll last that long, sister mine? I'm not entirely convinced you will so I've purchased something to help keep you occupied and cooperative."

Her eyes lit up as she spotted the package on the table.

Mycroft returned to the kitchen to retrieve the present, and then sat at the end of the couch as she opened it.

The packaging was quickly torn away, revealing a most unexpected gift: four notebooks and a package of pens. Rose looked at them, trying to make sense of it. The pens were normal blue ink pens, the notebooks were the standard 3 subject, college rule variety in four different colors: yellow, blue, red, purple.

"Anthea assured me there were no pink notebooks in sight so we made do," Mycroft told her. He smiled when she kicked out her legs and stretched them over his lap while continuing to examine her gift.

"I don't get it," Rose finally said. "Thank you? I mean… It's notebooks and pens." She set the items in her lap and looked at him expectantly.

"Open them," Mycroft instructed. He watched as she flipped open the first notebook and saw the exact moment when her eyes widened with understanding.

Inside the red notebook was a single sentence, scrawled in Mycroft's handwriting. _I will not take unnecessary risks with my health. _The purple notebook offered another sentence. _I will seek prompt medical attention if I am injured or suspect that I may be injured. _The yellow and blue notebooks also had a single sentence each: _No matter how old I am, safety will always be non-negotiable_ and _I will do everything my doctor tells me without question and without fail._

"Lines," Rose said, looking up at her brother. "You want me to write lines."

"I do indeed," he confirmed with a nod. "One thousand lines per sentence, due in exactly one week from today. My master plan, sister mine, is to occupy your recovery time so that you actually rest properly and continue to feel cooperative. Each week of your recovery I will provide you with a new project to work on. For your first week, it is writing lines, which will hopefully burn these concepts in your stubborn brain."

Rose's jaw dropped. "Mycroft you can't be serious. That's _four thousand_ lines due in a week! I can't possibly manage that in merely a week, not to mention it's downright insulting!"

"That… is genius," John commented quietly. What better way to ensure Rose didn't over exert herself and do what she was told in order to recover than by giving her projects to fill the time? She might actually learn something from the experience and think twice before foregoing proper medical care in the future.

His comment had not been quiet enough, however, as a red notebook was suddenly hurled in his direction. John ducked out of the way but it hit his cup of tea, spilling it all over the coffee table.

"And in the space of five minutes your resolution to behave yourself has disappeared," Mycroft said with a sigh. He fixed Rose with a stern look, one that never failed to make her squirm a bit in her seat and today was no exception. "That was childish Rose; apologize."

She sighed heavily before looking over at John. "I'm sorry… that I missed you with the notebook."

Sherlock snorted in an attempt to stifle his laughter at Rose's defiance. She was so skilled at pushing Mycroft's buttons and had always able to do so much faster than he ever had. Not that it did her any good, but one could appreciate the effort.

Mycroft leaned forward and took Rose's chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "I am in no mood for your games young lady. Do not believe for a second that while I am forced to wait until your recovery period is over to give you the spanking you so richly deserve that that is a license to do whatever suits you. You _will_ behave, you _will_ rest properly, and you will do your projects and hopefully manage to learn something from them. If I could trust you to be a cooperative patient all on your own these measures wouldn't be necessary Rosenwyn. Is that very clearly understood?"

The word 'trust' hit home and her eyes immediately began filling with tears. She had worked so hard to make him trust her again since she had come back! Was it really so easy to break that trust now?

Mentally Mycroft let out a curse. That had been a poor word choice, given their history, and Rose was never more sensitive than when she was ill or injured. "I didn't mean trust like that Rose," he said in a much gentler tone. Letting go of her chin he reached for her hands, squeezing them gently within his own.

When tears began sliding silently down her face, he knew hand-holding wouldn't be enough. "Budge up," he instructed. "So I can sit by you." When she moved away from the arm of the couch a bit, Mycroft moved and sat there, letting her help herself to his lap. His arms wrapped around her and he rested his chin on curly head. "Poppet, even you must admit that you're prone to misbehavior during periods of forced inactivity. It is not that you are untrustworthy, I just worry that boredom will cause you to make poor choices that will affect your recovery. Surely you can see the logic in that."

"I admit there's a small kernel of truth to that," Rose said quietly as she began to dry her tears.

"More than a small kernel poppet. A very large kernel might be a more apt description," Mycroft said gently. "I worry about you constantly, Rose and to be honest, those lines won't do you any harm and will keep you out of a world of trouble. As will the other projects I shall give you."

"What if I can't finish them in time? I mean, a week is only 168 hours, that would be… twenty-four lines every single hour of that whole time," Rose pointed out. "I've been sleeping a lot and I'm not sure if that's going to change, at least not while I'm on pain medication."

"That's a good point," Mycroft admitted. "You should be sleeping as much as you need to and it cannot be helped if your medication makes you tired. In that case I would refer to John's opinion on the matter. If you are sleeping quite a bit but make a good faith effort, he will tell me and I will give you more time to complete the lines. Does that sound fair?"

Rose nodded. "Very fair and reasonable, I admit, though I reserve the right to call and whine at you because my hand hurts so terribly it just might fall off," she added with a little smile.

"No worries there love, I'll give you all the hand massages you need," John promised, pleased that Rose had calmed down. She didn't need to start sobbing when it was already a bit challenging for her to take good deep breaths.

"Sorry about the notebook," Rose replied, blushing a bit. "I like to throw things."

"So I've noticed over the last several months," John said with a laugh. "It's alright love, no harm done. Why don't I start some coffee for you and you can get going on those lines while you're still awake?"

Those were the magic words and Rose immediately perked up. Coffee could make even lines seem tolerable! At least for a few moments at any rate. "Sounds good," she agreed before giving Mycroft a hug. "I love you, you know," she said quietly.

"I do know, and I love you too poppet," Mycroft whispered in return. "I'll go and leave you to your project but please behave yourself, alright? There's only one of you and for some odd reason I would like to keep you around."

Rose smiled at him and was about to respond when Sherlock let out a loud "YES!" that caused everyone to turn their attention to him.

"Molly has tongues! I've been waiting ages for some. I'm off to St. Bart's," he announced with an unholy look of glee.

Mycroft shook his head. "You two will never change. Sherlock will always be happy about tongues belonging to the recently deceased and you, poppet, will always have me worried about your safety."

"But you love us for it, so don't complain too much," Rose directed before kissing his cheek. "And we love you too."

Sherlock paused in the middle of putting on his coat to give Rose a scandalized look. "I do not _love_ him."

"Well I don't love you either," Mycroft retorted with a scowl.

"Oh for god sakes and you two think I'm a problem? Try growing up with the pair of you for role models," Rose grumbled. "_That_, my dearest brothers, is a _real_ problem. It's no wonder I can't stay out of trouble for more than five minutes at a time!"

"… Are you suggesting your broken ribs and continual lapses in prioritizing your safety are our fault?" Mycroft asked incredulously.

Rose tried to affect a look of complete innocence, complete with an angelic little smile. "But of course!"

"We must not have given you enough spankings then, leaving you confused and bewildered about where the boundaries of appropriate behavior are and when you've crossed them. That can be rectified of course," Mycroft offered. "Isn't that right Sherlock?"

"It is indeed, brother dear. We really _should_ correct that. Thank you Rose for pointing out the fundamental flaw in our efforts to bring you up properly," Sherlock responded gleefully. "I'll get started on that as soon as I get back from St. Bart's. I'll take today's spanking and you take tomorrow's Mycroft? How many spankings do you think it will take to correct our mistake?"

"Oh hundreds surely," Mycroft decided. "At least a year's worth. We can reevaluate at that time. You'll be sure to let us know when things become clear to you, won't you Rose?"

Rose scowled darkly at her brothers. "I hate you both very passionately."

"We hate you too," Mycroft replied before dropping a kiss on top of her head. "Though we are of course teasing you now, don't think for a second you're not getting spanked for all this nonsense with your ribs."

Her face flushed red with embarrassment and Rose let out a huff as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Still hate you."

"How unfortunate, considering I'm rather attached to you, though god only knows why," Mycroft murmured. "Your lines are waiting for you and I suggest you don't dally my dear. You won't like what happens if you don't finish them in a timely manner." He gave her a meaningfully _look _and let the veiled threat hang in the air for her to ponder.

Rose responded in the manner completely appropriate to her character, age, wisdom and life experiences… by throwing a pillow at his head as Mycroft attempted to escape the flat and growling unhappily when she missed.


	3. A Recalcitrant Prisoner

NOTE: This chapter is dedicated to my friend Kate; she knows why.

* * *

Rose sat the kitchen table, half taken over by her notebook she was writing lines in, and half by her brother who was examining some cold case files for Lestrade. Pausing for a moment, Rose shook out her writing hand before reaching for her mobile to take a photo.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked, looking over at her.

"Taking a photo of my very bruised and battered hand to send to My. Obviously," Rose added with a smirk. Inserting the photo into a text, she added a sad face to the message itself and sent it off to the eldest Holmes.

"You're not anywhere near having your lines done, are you?" Sherlock asked. "Trying to avoid a trip over Mycroft's knee by being all adorably sad and visibly wearing the results of your hard work?" He really couldn't resist teasing his sister who, even after all these years, was still rather cute when she blushed and scowled at the same time.

In all fairness, however, Sherlock had to admit that her fingers _were_ rather bruised from the hours she'd spent writing. The pens had left their marks, literally, all over that same hand, and he wasn't surprised to see a bruise on her elbow from banging it on the table several times in the writing process.

"Nowhere near done, mores the pity," Rose admitted with a sigh. "He will not be best pleased with me when he comes to visit in two days. I've only got two thousand and sixty-seven done." Her mobile chirped and she paused to open it.

'Ice it and then carry on, sister mine. I'm expecting 4000 legible lines come Saturday. M' After reading the text, Rose closed the mobile and slumped down in her seat. That only lasted for a few seconds, however, before the poor posture began to cause her pain and Rose quickly sat up again.

"You might get more done if you weren't listening to whatever it is that passes for music on your ipod," Sherlock pointed out. "Your song selections worry me." He paused to listen to some of the lyrics from the currently playing song, his ears easily catching strands of the song from her ear buds. "What the hell is that?" he asked, confusion written across his face. "I want to be the grave and _earth_ you?"

The youngest Holmes shrugged. "It's Lady Gaga and it's a brilliant song. That's just her way, to be a bit odd like that."

Sherlock's eyebrow quirked. "I don't think anyone calling herself 'Lady Gaga' is synonymous with the word 'brilliant.'"

"Oh shut up," Rose ordered, kicking his shin. "No one asked for your opinion."

"I never need to be asked," Sherlock replied, kicking her in return. "My opinions are superior to everyone else's. Besides, you're my sister and it's my job to educate you." Immediately a kicking war commenced with both siblings seemingly intent on bruising one another's shins and inflicting the most damage possible without using anything more than their legs and without ever leaving their chairs.

The glaring and kicking continued in silence for several minutes until a loud masculine "_Ow_!" was heard by John as he entered the flat. Carrying Tesco bags in both hands he entered the kitchen to find Rose smirking delightedly as Sherlock sat with his leg drawn up onto the chair, rubbing his knee.

"Heels are not allowed in the kicking game. You kick with your toes or the balls of your feet, you do not jam someone's knee with the heel of your foot," Sherlock informed his sister with a scowl. "That _hurt_."

"You're so much bigger than I am, so I need to use all available strategies to conquer you," Rose informed him in an imperious tone, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Don't whinge just because I'm more creative than you are and possess deadlier feet."

"Keeping yourselves entertained and reasonably out of trouble I see," John chuckled. "Try not to draw blood from each other, alright? There are moments when I feel like a referee during your brief attempts to kill each other!"

"We haven't killed each other yet and it's been going on for years, referee or no referee," Rose pointed out. "What did you get? Anything good? Can I cook tonight?" She got up from her chair to peek inside the shop bags.

Sherlock snorted and rolled his eyes. "My dearest sister, your grammar is deplorable. It is _may_ I cook, not _can_ I, because obviously you can physically cook."

"I object to your logic, brother dear," Rose responded. "While I may have the know-how to cook and do it quite well if I do say so myself, the question is not _may_ I because I am asking my lovely doctor if he deems me physically well enough to cook again, hence the _can _rather than _may._"

"The more important question here, far more important than grammar at any rate, is how far you are on those lines," John interrupted the warring siblings. He left Rose looking through the shopping bags to examine her notebook. "Well, that's definitely more than when I left, but not anywhere near the number Mycroft wants in two days. Are you sure you have the time to spare for cooking?"

Rose threw a pitiful look in John's direction. "I haven't done anything but sleep, eat and write lines-"

"And drink coffee," Sherlock added, amid close examination of a photograph.

"And drink coffee," she agreed, shooting her brother a _look_. "All day today and the day before that and the day before _that_. It's just one little break. Even Mycroft can't be disgruntled because I stopped to make food."

"Alright," John said with a nod. "But you keep both feet on the floor at all times, no reaching up above your head, and be _careful_. There's no need to disrupt all the good resting you've done by over exerting yourself."

"You'd best help me then. In case you haven't noticed, most things are well over my head in terms of reaching at any rate," Rose pointed out. "Sherlock, get out of my kitchen." She poked his shoulder repeatedly, hoping to get him to move both himself and the files.

"Actually, it's my kitchen," Sherlock pointed out. "Not yours. You have your own and very cruelly never allow me in it. I could use the extra work space you know, horribly selfish child." Yet despite his protests, Sherlock gathered up the cold case files and reorganized himself at the desk.

Rose rolled her eyes. "I love you, but you need to move your arse Sherlock so I can cook. John, will you do some sanitizing of… everything?" She shrugged and looked around the kitchen as if she might be able to see with her own eyes the bacteria and gunk lurking on the surfaces. "And I think a bit of music is in order to give us some energy." Grabbing her ipod she skipped around to find a song she liked and put it on the dock so they could all hear it.

"I'm not listening to songs about grave diggers!" Sherlock called out to her.

"It wasn't a song about grave diggers, it was a metaphor for sex… I think," the youngest Holmes called back. She gave John a look that clearly said 'what did I do to deserve him?' and then smiled brightly.

Sherlock scowled but refrained from saying anything further that would only serve to make him feel more uncomfortable than he did at that moment. Naturally the fact that Michael Buble's _Young at Heart_ now firmly drowned him out had no impact whatsoever on that decision! He decided to firmly ignore the occupants of the kitchen in favor of solving the case he held in his hands.

"So what sort of feast are you making for us tonight?" John asked as he scrubbed the kitchen table.

"Nothing too fancy, just a teriyaki chicken stir fry." Rose busied herself getting everything ready before reaching up for the frying pan. The movement drew a wince from her that did not go unnoticed by John.

"Both feet flat on the floor love," John said firmly, reaching up to get the pan for her. "And no reaching up like that. Someone can't follow directions well." This last he said teasingly while handing over the pan.

Rose blushed a bit as she turned back to the stove. "It's hard to remember," she admitted. "But for once I'm not actively attempting to injure myself further. That's something, right?"

John chuckled and gently wrapped an arm around her waist, smiling as she leaned back against him. "It is something; a very good something in fact. And you'll note I didn't scold, I merely reminded you in a firm tone. You've been a remarkably delightful patient." He kissed her cheek before moving away to let her continue cooking, enjoying watching her in her element- or one of them rather.

Before long, the chicken was browning and Rose began adding the rice and veggies, singing along with her music as she worked. She swayed back and forth on her feet, unable to completely remain still when her body called out for her to dance to one of her favorite Buble songs.

"You're a carousel, you're a wishing well and you light me up, when you ring my bell. You're a mystery, you're from outer space, you're every minute of my every day. And I can't believe that I'm your man! And I get to kiss you baby just because I can! Whatever comes our way-" Her melodic singing was interrupted with a very unharmonious squeak, accompanied by a jump that nearly sent the frying pan to the floor as John suddenly pressed a kiss to the hollow of her neck.

"Where did you come from?" she asked, turning around to face him. Her face was alight with laughter and Rose struggled not to giggle out loud at the feigned look of innocence on John's face.

"I was just over there," he told her, pointing at the table. "Weren't you just telling me I could kiss you just because I can?" John wrapped both arms around her, pulling her close.

"I was singing, I wasn't advertising," Rose said softly, blushing just a bit. "And why kiss me there? It's just my neck and you're not a vampire last I checked."

He shook his head, leaning his forehead against hers. "Nope, not a vampire, but your neck was pretty irresistible just then."

Rose could only smile at his words, delighted that he found her irresistible. "Next you'll tell me you'd kiss my toes or something. Which, you really shouldn't, you don't even know where they've been!"

The doctor's eyebrow quirked at her words. "Well they better _not _have been anywhere but here," John commented warningly.

"They weren't," she assured him. "All of me has been right here, sleeping and writing lines."

John let out a sigh of relief at her words. When it came to Rose, one never really knew for sure, especially when she was meant to be resting. "Good. That means I can do this without condoning bad behavior," he murmured teasingly.

Before Rose could even reply, she felt the heady sensation of his lips meetings hers, a sensation that defied all logic and understanding. At once soft yet demanding, sweet yet full of fire, sensations rippled through her body. Rose closed the small space between them, her body seeming to mould perfectly with his. John cradled her closer still, his hands slowly traveling lower until they reached her bum, when he carefully lifted her up and onto the table.

He had really only meant to kiss her once, but after he began it seemed as though he couldn't stop. While John could tell that Rose wasn't the most experienced at kissing of the women he had dated there was something intoxicating about both it and her. She certainly wasn't bad at it by any means, but there was a sweetness and innocence about it that made her all the more irresistible and summoned his protective nature to the fore.

When the kitchen went silent, aside from the ipod continuing to cycle through songs, Sherlock looked in that direction. He immediately recoiled upon seeing his flatmate and sister snogging and looked away as he fervently tried to delete the image from his mind. That was definitely not something he wanted to tuck away in Rose's room of his mind palace!

Their kissing broke apart momentarily, leaving Rose a little weak in the knees and clinging to John's arms for support. "God, you're so good at this," she whispered. A blush crossed her face and Rose hurriedly buried her face against his shoulder.

"You're adorable when you blush like that," John whispered.

Rose smiled and was about to reply when she was quite rudely interrupted by an annoyingly loud _beep beep beep beep_.

Taking a deep breath to prepare himself for what he might find when he turned around, Sherlock glanced in the direction of the kitchen and sighed. "Rose, dinner is on fire," he announced with a resigned sigh.

"Dinner!" Her eyes wide with alarm, Rose turned to look at the stove top. Sure enough, their dinner was happily burning away, the smoke setting off the alarm's obnoxious beeping. Before she could even slide off the table and attempt to put it out, John was at the stove fighting the small fire. The lid was popped onto the pan, which effectively killed the flames, and the entire pan was moved to an unused burner.

"Note to self, don't snog while cooking," Rose murmured. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Sherlock move into the kitchen and turned to look at him, immediately cringing when she did.

Arms crossed over his chest, an indignant eyebrow arched, Sherlock glowered at them. "Did I or did I not ask you to refrain from sexual intercourse on the table?"

"I'm not sure if you're aware, but kissing is not the same as sex Sherlock," Rose began. She cringed at the dark look that comment earned her. "I would not have sex on a table with you anywhere nearby. Or on a table you've spent significant time with to be honest. Horribly unsafe." Rose slide back to her feet and spared a glance for John.

"We got carried away," John said apologetically. "I wasn't actually going to have sex with your sister on the table." He couldn't help feeling like a teenager who'd brought his girlfriend back home after her curfew had passed, despite the fact that he was far from being a teenager anymore!

"This does not give me confidence that you'll refrain from having sexual relations on this very table the second my back is turned and John I truly, _truly_ hate having that thought, let alone _image_, in my head. It is unbearably painful so please stop trying so very hard to put it there!" Sherlock thundered.

Though he sounded angry, the look on his face was more akin to physical pain than anything else and Rose hated knowing she had put that look there. She promptly crossed the room and hugged him as tightly as she dared. When he responded in kind and dropped a kiss on top of her head, Rose let out a sigh of relief.

"Please make an attempt to refrain from behaving like randy teenagers from now on, will you? Or better yet, just do that in Rose's flat, though preferably not while cooking dinner. I'm certain Mrs. Hudson would prefer you _not_ burn down the building," Sherlock cautioned.

"Point taken," John agreed rather sheepishly. "We'll think things through a little more next time."

Rose snickered, earning herself a look from John. "We? There was no _we_. You started it," she teased.

"Well you didn't end it, did you?" John laughed, smiling when she blushed yet again. One of these days he was going to have to keep count of how many times he could make her do that inside a 24 hour period.

Shaking his head at their antics, Sherlock let out a sigh. "Fight about whose fault the fire was later. Right now there are more important decisions to be made: Chinese or Angelo's? Chinese I think; less likely that you'll both to go all googly-eyed at each other over it."

This time both John and Rose blushed while Sherlock smirked delightedly at their discomfort.

* * *

"Mycroft, I can explain," Rose greeted her brother as he arrived at Baker Street for a visit two days later. She inwardly cringed at the nervousness that crept into her tone.

Crossing the room, Mycroft took a seat at the kitchen table and gave her a searching look, trying to decide just what it was she might have done. Then again, being Rose, it could be almost anything and thus the searching look was ultimately unfruitful. For an entire week he had not heard even a peep about trouble or uncooperative behavior and Mycroft anticipated a pleasant visit with his sister, during which he would collect her completed lines. Apparently that was not to be the case. With a longsuffering sigh that any parent would recognize as one simultaneously filled with exasperation and affection, he said, "Well, what have you done?"

"Rose, I'm off to surgery," John interrupted. "I'll be back at 9pm. Don't forget to take your pain meds as you should, you're due again in an hour." Giving his patient a smile he shrugged on his coat before crossing the room to kiss her goodbye.

Rose leaned up a bit for a kiss and then, at the exact moment, realized they should _not_ kiss just then, because Mycroft was there and he didn't know about them! Immediately she turned her cheek, allowing John to kiss it, praying that neither of them blushed brightly.

Mycroft, however, was not blind and did not miss the sudden widening of his sister's eyes just as the doctor's face was a few inches from hers. His eyes narrowed as he tried to decide what to make of that. Perhaps she had been hoping John would come to her defense over whatever it was Rose needed to 'explain' to him. Yes, surely that must be it, the eldest Holmes concluded, because what else could it possibly be?

"Dr. Watson, I have a feeling your opinion will be necessary. Do delay your exit for a moment and I shall have my driver take you straight to surgery afterwards," Mycroft requested. Or rather, he made it _sound_ like somewhat of a request but in reality it most definitely was not. It delighted the eldest Holmes to no end that John knew the difference and easily capitulated.

"Alright, but we'll need to make this quick," John agreed with a sigh. He stood just inside the entrance of the kitchen, feeling a little silly, yet was unwilling to defy the eldest Holmes over so minor an issue.

A light blush crossed her cheek bones as Rose slowly pushed two notebooks in his direction. "It's more what I didn't do. I tried My, truly, but I couldn't get them all done. The lines in the red notebook are complete and I have about 200 or so done in the purple one but that's all."

Opening the red notebook, Mycroft scanned the pages, taking in the number of lines and appreciating that they were very legible. "I forgot how lovely your penmanship is," he admitted as he closed the notebook. Opening the purple one he found another 515 neatly written sentences. Closing it, he slid the purple notebook back in her direction. "I asked for 4000 and you have given me 2515. Is there an explanation?"

"I gave it my best effort My. I sleep a lot more than I anticipated and now that I'm properly fussed over, there's time spent using a heating pad or ice. Both things I didn't do very regularly prior to Dr. Fussypants over there taking over." Rose inclined her head in John's direction and smiled when the doctor in question snorted at the newly appointed nickname.

Mycroft's eyebrows rose at the nickname and a little chuckle escaped before he could stop it. "Dr. Watson, would you care to add to the discussion?" He looked over at the man in question, hoping John would confirm that Rose had been making slow but steady progress so that he didn't have to scold her.

"Four ibuprofen , she has no problem at all. Give her some decent pain relief and she goes out cold," John said with a chuckle. "I don't understand it, because one would think someone her size would be equally affected by the ibuprofen, but sometimes there's just no accounting for that sort of thing. She's done really well Mycroft. Worked slowly but surely on them, between medication induced naptimes—"

Rose scowled and stuck her tongue out at John in protest of the word 'naptimes.'

"— and such. She's done her best on them," John finished.

The eldest Holmes nodded, inwardly pleased. "Then I shall table the new project I was going to assign and have you continue working on lines. I can only ask for your best effort, in this and in all things. Your best is plenty," Mycroft assured her.

A bright smile spread across Rose's face and before Mycroft could even say another word, Rose was coming around the table to hug him enthusiastically.

"_Must_ you be so sentimental?" the eldest Holmes grumbled. "It's really quite appalling. Thank god I didn't bring you a present or you might smother me with your effervescent outpouring of affection." Yet for all his complaining, he returned her hug, kissed the top of her head and gave not a word of protest when Rose was suddenly sitting on his lap.

"And on that lovely note, I'm off to surgery," John spoke up. "I'll be home later and bring something back for a late supper. Make certain you take your pain medication when it's time, hm? One in another hour and one four hours after that. I'll be home in time for later doses."

"I'll make certain she does," Mycroft answered, even though it was clear the doctor was addressing his sister. "Do go on your way without a worry as to my sister's care. Wouldn't be the first time I've played sick nurse," he admitted.

John smiled and nodded, leaving the siblings to entertain themselves and took advantage of Mycroft's waiting car as instructed.

"I'm pleased that you've somehow managed to behave yourself, though generally that isn't very hard when one sleeps quite often," Mycroft commented. "I thought I might keep you company for a while this afternoon if that's agreeable."

Rose nodded, her whole face spreading in a smile. "I find that very agreeable. Are we going to do something?"

Mycroft nodded. "We are. You are going to do lines and I am going to enjoy a book." Before she could do more than give him a pitiful look, he gently pushed her off his lap and onto her feet and sent her in the direction of her chair with a light swat to her behind.

With a long-suffering sigh, Rose sat down in her chair and promptly stuck her tongue out at him.

"How very mature of you Rose," Mycroft commented with a sigh of his own.

"That's your fault, brother dear," she responded. "Mature people don't have to write lines, therefore you are stripping me of my maturity."

His brow furrowed as Mycroft gave her a stern look. "Mature people also don't walk around with broken ribs for three days and engage in a strenuous dance competition that puts their health in significant jeopardy." He watched as her body stiffened and she looked particularly abashed, her eyes dropping to the table top.

"Now, however is not the time for scolding," Mycroft continued. "I'll make you some coffee while you start your lines again." Getting up to find the coffee pot he watched Rose out of the corner of his eye, noting that she still looked rather dejected, despite the offer of coffee. As soon as the coffee began percolating he crossed the kitchen and hugged her gently. There were no words, just a hug that said everything that necessary.

"I know you only scold because you love me," Rose finally said softly. "But I hate it when you do. I try really hard to make you proud of me." She smiled when he hugged her a little tighter.

"That's precisely why I do it," the eldest Holmes agreed. "I love you far more than you'll ever know." This he whispered in her ear, as if the very walls might have ears of their own to hear it. "And I am proud of you poppet. I may not always be proud of some of the things you do, but I _am_ proud of you. Given my own ineptitude at times, it's a miracle you turned out so well."

Rose laughed softly and turned in the chair to hug him in return. "What the world wouldn't give to hear you admit to be anything less than perfect and completely in control! Luckily for you, I'll never tell. Now where's my coffee?"

Rolling his eyes, Mycroft nonetheless brought her a mug of coffee and settled at the table with tea for himself and good book to read.

Two hours, two cups of coffee and one dose of pain medication later, Mycroft looked up from his book to find Rose fast asleep, pen still in her hand ready to write. Chuckling softly he got up and removed the pen from her hand before lifting her up from the chair and into his arms. With great care he carried her over to the couch and gently laid her down. Grabbing the blanket on the back of the couch he tucked Rose in snuggly and leaned over to kiss her forehead. "Sleep well poppet," he whispered.

* * *

It was a Friday and Rose had been on restricted activity for three weeks. Three _whole_ long weeks and it was slowly driving her insane. Sure, she'd been out to Speedy's, and gone to visit Louise a few times and had Louise over more times than that, but being kept from any sort of actual strenuous activity was akin to torture. How all the people in prison all over the world survived she had no idea, especially since she had more 'privileges' than they did and was still going crazy.

Really, all she did was _sit_, Rose thought to herself. Admittedly Mycroft had made great effort at keeping her busy while remaining largely inactive but that only added to her misery. Only yesterday had she finished her lines for Mycroft, only to be rewarded with a bit of praise and the assigning of yet more lines. How there could still be things for her to write lines about in regard to her broken ribs she didn't know, but apparently Mycroft was a man of many talents, much to her detriment.

She scowled at the notebook open before her, hating it even if Anthea had managed to find a pink one. There was also a yellow notebook, far too sunny of a color for her current state of restlessness, and a black one that seemed much better suited for such a dreary and mind-numbing task. Each contained a single line in Mycroft's handwriting. The first was: _I will not knowingly injure myself for any reason other than self-defense. _That had been the original line, in the pink notebook. To start with there had only been one notebook, but two more had most unfortunately been added to the mix largely by her own making. Or perhaps _entirely_ because of her own making, she admitted with a mental sigh.

_The Previous Night_

"I'm very proud of you Rose for completing these," Mycroft said sincerely as he gathered the last of her notebooks. "I hope you've learned a valuable lesson from writing these lines in addition to giving your body time to relax and heal."

"I'm so glad to be done with those, you truly have no idea," Rose told him emphatically. "Want some tea, or are you not able to stay?" She made her way to the kitchen and started some coffee for herself.

"I'll stay for some tea," Mycroft decided. "And don't be too excited just yet, sister mine. You still have three weeks of recovery time for me to fill."

The coffee pot Rose had been filling with water tumbled into the sink with a loud _clink_ of glass against metal. After shutting off the water she turned around to face her eldest brother, looking completely crestfallen. "Mycroft, let's be fair here. I did four thousand lines and they took me _forever_ to do. My hand will likely never be the same again after that and you're asking me to do more than that? I.. It's… My, it's not fair!" She hated the fact that the last sentence came out with a bit of a whine, completely without her permission.

"Rosenwyn I told you I was going to give you tasks to fill your recovery time and keep you out of trouble. If you really sit and think about it, you'll find I'm doing you a favor considering what a rotten patient you generally are," Mycroft pointed out. "Only one thousand more lines and then I have a few essay topics that you will find illuminating to research." Completely ignoring her dumbstruck look, he put a pink notebook down on the kitchen table. "Anthea managed to find a pink one for you."

More than a little tired of being kept half-bored and feeling a bit stir crazy, the slim hold Rose had on her temper broke. Without even looking at the notebook, Rose grabbed it and threw it at her brother, feeling inordinately satisfied when it clipped his face before falling on the floor. "Like _hell_ am I writing more lines Mycroft! I'm had enough and if you even think for five seconds that I'm going to write essays for you, you're out of your _fucking_ mind!"

The moment the words left her mouth and registered to her ears, Rose could feel dread settling heavily in her chest. The look of anger on her brother's face only made it worse, freezing her in place as her mind raced to find the words to say. "Mycroft… Mycroft I'm _so _sorry," she finally said in a quiet tone. "That was so out of line and I'm really very sorry. Forgive me?"

Mycroft was not in a forgiving mood just then and briskly shook his head no. "I have no idea what's got into you lately, but you seem to forget that you are a lady and ladies don't curse. What's more is that you don't _ever_ have the right to speak to me in such a manner! Well I have had it with that foul mouth of yours lately and that's going to end now."

All the color drained from Rose's face and her eyes flew wide in alarm. "No… Mycroft, _please_."

The eldest Holmes merely raised an eyebrow at her and said, "Loo. Now."

"Sherlock!" Rose called out. She gave him a pleading look, hoping he would come to her aid.

"Mm, no. You walked yourself into that one," Sherlock told her, never taking his eyes from John's laptop. He did feel badly for her, having one's mouth washed out was not a fun experience, but Rose really had brought it on herself.

She flung a last look of appeal in Mycroft's direction only to be met with a stern look that clearly said 'I'm waiting.' With tears already gathering in her eyes, though whether from embarrassment or actual trepidation she wasn't certain, Rose walked down the hallway and into the bathroom with Mycroft right behind her.

"Sit," Mycroft ordered, closing the door behind them. He was pleased that Rose complied and sat down on the closed lid of the toilet. After a moment's brief search he located what he was looking for: an unopened bar of soap and a flannel. He ran the soap under the water for a moment before rubbing the flannel against it, making the cloth good and soapy.

"I can't believe we're doing this," he admitted as he worked. "You're twenty, Rose, not ten. You know better than to ever use such language, especially with me. That is not the way one speaks to their loved ones, or to anyone they even have an inkling of respect for. I am _very _disappointed."

The scolding had been hard enough to listen to but hearing that she'd disappointed him sent Rose over the edge and she began crying.

Mycroft heard her burst into tears and inwardly cringed. That sound never failed to pull on his heartstrings, no matter how much he might wish it wouldn't. Deeming the flannel soapy enough he turned back to Rose and nearly decided to forget about washing her mouth out. "You know you deserve this, don't you?" he asked quietly. "That sort of language has never been allowed and I'm not about to start having you throw it at me now, no matter how old you are. Do you understand that?"

Rose nodded but kept her mouth tightly shut, making him sigh. "I'm not going to wrestle you in order to make you cooperate Rose. Please open your mouth and let's get it done with. You've more than earned it."

As the unpleasantness got underway in the loo, John returned home from surgery to sounds that were out of the ordinary, even for Baker Street. Tears and the sound of gagging met his ears and he immediately looked for Rose, only to find her nowhere in sight. His flatmate looked wholly unconcerned, but that meant very little considering Sherlock was, after all, Sherlock. Deciding to investigate, John followed the noise to the loo and knocked loudly on the door. "Everything alright in there? Rose are you sick?"

"Rose is fine and this is none of your concern," came the voice from the other side of the door.

"Mycroft?" John asked, feeling confused.

"I repeat, none of your concern Dr. Watson!" The voice was filled with ominous warning this time and John backed away as the tears and gagging seemed to reach a crescendo.

Inside the loo, Rose was attempting to rinse her mouth, alternately coughing and spitting out the soap suds in her mouth. That taste was going to linger for hours! She wondered, just briefly, if her own lovely smelling soap might have tasted a little bit better but truly wasn't curious enough to find out.

As soon as Rose finished rinsing her mouth out, Mycroft pulled her into a tight hug. "Let's not do this again, poppet," he said softly before dropping a kiss on top of her head. "You might not believe me, but I don't enjoy this anymore than you do. I don't actually _like_ having to be harsh with you."

A few years ago Rose might have snorted in contempt at such words and considered them a load of nonsense. Now, however, she knew what he said was true. "I'm sorry Mycroft, I'm really, really sorry."

Mycroft indulged in a bit of sentiment and smiled when Rose pressed her face against his chest the way she always had. "I know, but it's over now and I forgive you," he assured her, rubbing soothing circles on her back. "There's no need to cry anymore, just think before you speak from now on, alright?" When she nodded, he kissed the top of her head once more and murmured, "That's my good girl."

_Present_

Rose had assumed that they would never speak of the incident again and she firmly intended to deny that it ever happened should someone for whatever reason happen to ask. Then this morning the yellow and black notebooks arrived for her with a note requesting two thousand copies of each line, in addition to the one thousand of the line in the pink notebook. She was _very _tired of lines and being cooped up in the house like a prisoner. That was about to change.

* * *

Greg Lestrade was in his office conferencing with Sally Donovan over a new case when a light knock on the door drew his attention away. He looked over, expecting to see one of his officers or someone from the lab delivering a rushed report. The last person he expected at his office door was Rose Holmes! After giving Sally a look that clearly indicated he expected her to behave, Greg waved the young woman into his office.

"A triumphant return already?" he asked. "And even brings me a macchiato!" He accepted the coffee and gave Rose a grin. "Missed me and decided to come say hello?"

Rose smiled and shook her head. She was about to respond when Sally suddenly spoke up instead.

"How are you?" the woman asked, her tone sincere. "Are you healing up well?"

"I am actually," Rose admitted. "Slowly but surely. It's a long and torturous process and I'm certain my brain cells have begun dying from enforced boredom."

Sally chuckled and smiled at the younger woman. "I'm really sorry about your chair. I wasn't trying to injure you like that."

Rose's eyebrows shot up in surprise as Sally apologized, sincerely no less, for messing with her chair. "You know, I'm really not here to make your life miserable and I hope you know that," she responded. "We don't have to actually like each other or anything, but I would like to call a truce for Greg's sake. Man's got enough problems, yeah?"

"Hey now!" Greg exclaimed, uncertain if he should be offended by that remark.

"You've got a whole department of people to run and murders to solve. That's enough to deal with, isn't it?" Rose asked, giving him a grin. She quickly turned her attention back to Sally and stuck out her hand. "Truce?"

"Truce," Sally agreed. The two women shook hands while Greg grinned proudly at them both.

"So what can I do for you Greg? I'm incredibly bored at Baker Street and I might as well sit and do something for you here than sit there and be bored," Rose pointed out.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Greg asked, looking a bit concerned. "I really wasn't expecting you back for a while yet."

"Oh, I'm very sure. I'm ready to work but I'll take it easy, I promise," Rose assured him.

"Well, I suppose you know your own limits better than I do, so I don't see why not. Just take it very, very easy and leave the minute you need to alright? I don't want John or your brothers jumping down my throat because you came back early and set your recovery back," the DI pointed out.

Rose nodded her agreement and happily got to work at her desk. "I've never been so happy to see a desk," she told Sally while lovingly running her hands across the top of it.

The sergeant merely shook her head, inwardly thinking once again that the Holmes lot was very strange indeed.

* * *

Five hours later John arrived at Baker Street holding a box of cupcakes for Rose. She'd been a fantastic patient for three weeks now and had more than earned a bit of a treat for resting as she should. He knew it wasn't easy for her, though Mycroft's little projects had certainly assisted in keeping her out of trouble.

He headed up the stairs and unlocked the door of the flat, knowing Rose would lock it since she was home alone. "Rose!" he called out when the door swung open. "Rose, I've got a surprise for you!" He expected her to come out of the kitchen or the loo to see what he had but there was no sign of Rose. Within a few moments, John had ascertained that Rose was not at Baker Street at all.

After placing the box of cupcakes on the kitchen table he retrieved his mobile from his pocket with a sigh. He had a feeling he knew exactly where she was but wanted to confirm it.

'I appear to be missing a patient. Might she be with you by chance?'

Over at the Yard, Greg's mobile vibrated on top of his desk. He grabbed it, read the message, and rolled his eyes. Somehow he had known Rose had absconded without anyone being the wiser!

'She is indeed. I take it you will be coming to claim her? –G'

'Definitely. Be there shortly.' Pocketing his mobile once more, John locked up the flat and headed for the tube, hoping the ride there would make him feel less inclined to strangle his recalcitrant girlfriend… Or at least give him the strength to resist doing so while anywhere near the Yard!

* * *

NOTE 2: Hello my dear readers! I apologize for the long wait for this chapter and will beg you in advance for your patience. I am back at university now, 2nd year PhD student and working two jobs (one with teaching responsibilities) so updates are going to be a bit slower than during the glory days of summer. My goal is one chapter per week for sure (either Petal or Wildflower) but will of course update more often if I'm able. Thanks for all your support and readership!


	4. Begin As One Means to Go On

There were moments when John thought he might actually be catching on to this deduction business of Sherlock's. Oh, he'd never be anywhere near as good as world's only consulting detective, but the doctor was certain he was improving to a certain extent. Then again, perhaps he shouldn't credit his own skills as highly as he was right in that moment because the person he was deducing tended to be rather easy to read, especially when she didn't know she was being scrutinized.

Standing just outside and to the left of the elevator, John had a relatively clear view of Rose, who was seated at her desk and appeared to be consulting with Lestrade about something. Those were the easy things though, that anyone should, in theory, see. But there was more to observe than the obvious. As John watched her talk and move, he could see the way she kept her left arm tucked closer to her torso, as if she'd recently over extended and caused some discomfort. Her face was also a touch pale and drawn, also indicating some general discomfort if not outright pain which meant it was very likely that Rose had gone quite some time without her pain medication. She was able to ease up on the use of it more now, but broken ribs were particularly painful and it definitely was not recommended that one skip doses if they wanted to keep things more manageable.

John found himself a little torn as he stood there, not yet ready to approach her. On the one hand, he was incredibly proud of her for having lasted three whole weeks before her impatience and impulsiveness got the best of her. He'd really only expected her to last four or five days tops, so this was definitely something for the record books. He couldn't really bring himself to blame her for wanting to escape for a bit and in fact recalled feeling the same way she likely did after he was shot. Recovery had been long and arduous and even knowing what he did about the healing process, John had been sorely tempted on a number of occasions to just do_ something_ to alleviate being cooped up for so long.

Understanding how she felt, however, was a long way from John condoning Rose's little disappearing act from Baker Street. It might have been one thing had she bothered to just let someone know she needed to get some air, but to take off _and_ go back to work _and_ skip her medication? That was more than a bit not good and John was more than willing to enlighten Rose as to that fact. As soon as Greg stepped away, John made a beeline for her desk.

As Rose turned back towards her computer screen, she caught a flash of something familiar out of the corner of her eye; something that looked _just_ like John's jacket. She turned her chair around slowly in that direction, her heart plummeting into her stomach as her suspicions were confirmed. John was in fact striding toward her, looking far less than pleased with her.

John almost chuckled at the look on Rose's face when she caught sight of him. Her cheeks immediately flushed and her eyes grew round and wide before turning her chair back towards the computer screen as if ignoring him could make him go away. Either that or she was mortified and praying that he wouldn't embarrass her. That, of course, was not his goal at all!

Finally he was standing beside her desk and without a word slowly turned her chair towards him. Once that was accomplished John sat on the edge of her desk, arms crossed over his chest, an eyebrow raised inquisitively.

Rose was torn on how to best respond that the silent question that eyebrow of John's asked. While she was aware she was well and truly caught not resting, she hesitated to acknowledge any issue between them here among the people they both worked with. She opened her mouth to suggest they table the conversation until later and said…

"…Hi."

The softly uttered greeting and the anxiety coming off Rose in waves made John's stern façade soften a bit. "I'm not here to embarrass you," he said very quietly. "But I am here to take you home because you're not meant to be back here yet. I can already tell you're in some pain, so let's go home and get that taken care of."

"John, it's been three weeks and I've been a model patient that whole time. But I'm really fine now, I promise, and a little pain isn't a bad thing. It's just a twinge." When that eyebrow of his went up again, Rose let out a sigh. "Okay, a significant twinge, but I'm _fine_. And I intend to stay until my normal shift ends in a few hours."

"Which one of us is the doctor?" John asked, a steely edge creeping into his tone now.

Rose bristled at his tone and, much to her annoyance, began to blush once more. "You are but-"

John held up his hand, effectively cutting her off. "Stop right there. I _am_ the doctor and as your doctor I am telling you to go home and rest before you undo all the healing you've done thus far. Now please gather your things and we're going back to Baker Street."

Lifting her chin, Rose looked him squarely in the eye. "John, I said no and I meant it," she said firmly. "The bottom line is that I can sit here just as easily as I can sit at Baker Street and at least here I'm doing some good."

Unwilling to cause a scene, but equally unwilling to allow her to stay here and work in pain out of what was most likely boredom rather than any sort of reasonable excuse, John leaned down close to her as his response was for her ears alone. "You aren't going to want to sit anywhere when we get home," John commenting in a warning tone.

The promise behind those words hanging in the air between them and Rose's eyes went wide, her mouth forming a little 'o' in alarm.

"Now I'm telling you for the last time, please get your things so we can go home," he said sternly.

Swallowing hard, Rose gave a curt nod before getting up from her desk and heading towards Lestrade's office. "Um… I'm going to head home for the day," she said softly.

"Good," Greg replied sincerely. "Don't come back until you're really ready, alright? There's no rush, your job isn't going anywhere, even if I do miss you and my morning macchiato rather desperately." He gave her a wink and smile, happy to draw a smile from her in response.

Within just a few moments Rose was ready to leave, walking silently with John towards the lift. The tension between them was thick and it was she who first tried to pierce it. "You're very angry with me, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't say angry per se, but I'm not best pleased with you love," John responded with a sigh. "If you were itching for a spanking you might have just texted me and asked for one and skip leaving the flat and risking injury all together."

Her jaw dropped and a flush of pink blossomed across her cheek bones. "If I _what_?! Are you serious? Just text you and ask for one? Why would I want to ask for one?!" The door of the lift opened, silencing the two occupants, but Rose continued to glower at the doctor. She waited, just barely, until they exited the building before continuing to speak.

"I wasn't looking for… for… _that_," Rose spat out, fighting the urge to stomp her foot for emphasis. "I just… It's not a big deal!"

"It's a _very_ big deal!" John countered, turning to pin her with a hard look. "Maybe not to you, but it is to me. This is not okay Rose, not even close. I've told you several times how paramount it is that you rest and not overexert yourself or your ribs won't heal properly and be a continuous problem for you. This isn't me just being overly protective; it's me wanting you to continue to dance without ribs looking for their next chance to snap or give you chronic pain because they didn't knit back together properly!"

It was only then that he realized their raised voices and very public row was drawing attention from people walking past them on the pavement. John took a deep breath and reached for Rose to gently tug her hands, urging her to move closer him. "Let's take the rest of this home, yeah?"

"Yeah," Rose agreed. "Get us a taxi will you?" She intertwined her fingers with his, letting him hold on to her.

Nodding, John moved towards the street to hail one.

* * *

The ride back to Baker Street was a silent one as tension seemed to close in on them yet again. Rose spent much of it worrying her lip to the point that it started bleeding. Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she tried to staunch the bleeding while inwardly shuddering at the gross metallic taste in her mouth.

When the taxi pulled up to the curb, she ducked out of it, leaving John to pay the fare, much as Sherlock always did, and hurried inside the building. She was nervous and anxious, though she always felt that way when she was about to get spanked, but somehow this was different. It felt different and Rose was frustrated that she couldn't pin a label on the feeling.

John entered the flat and shut the door behind him, the sound effectively pulling Rose out of her reverie. He took a seat in his chair, facing Rose who had claimed Sherlock's, and raised his eyebrows. "Why? Why did you do it? It can't be that you were unaware of the risks, because I've made those quite clear to you time and again," John said. "You've done brilliantly and I even got you cupcakes to celebrate what a great patient you've been."

Rose peeked around him and into the kitchen, spotting the box of cupcakes from her very favorite bakery. The one that had precipitated their food fight in the sitting room and aided John's apology not long ago, and she sighed with pleasure at the thought of how good they were going to taste.

"Rose? I'm over here," John interrupted, purposely leaning in to block her view of the box. "We'll worry about the cupcakes later; they aren't going anywhere. I asked you a question and I'd like an answer."

She settled back against the seat with a sigh. "I was bored and I didn't think it was a big deal. Sitting is sitting is sitting."

"That's a Sherlock excuse and I think it's more than that. Were you overcome by impulse?" John asked. That he might actually believe, but even so, it was likely to be only part of the cause. "Tired of being cooped up? There's better ways to deal with that love than abscond to work like that. I would have been happy to take you out somewhere tonight for a few hours, give you a bit of a break from the flat."

"You'd take me out on a date?" Rose asked, immediately perking up. "Oh, we need to do that! Our very first date!" She smiled brightly at the mere thought of it and wondered where they would go and what they would do.

"Tomorrow we'll go out and do something if you rest between now and then and aren't hurting too much," John promised. "But for the moment we've got other things to deal with, so let's stay on task." He ignored the look she gave him- thinned lips, narrowed eyes and all- and offered one of his own in return. "Why?"

"Look, I was actually bored," Rose replied. "And I wasn't going to stay here one more second and write even one more line for my di-er," she quickly edited herself, remembering all too well the events of the previous evening. "For Mycroft. I figured if I went back to work then he couldn't reasonably expect me to continue the lines because look, I was all better now and working! It was much more of a protest than any sort of concerted effort to…" Her voice trailed off as she realized how red John's face had become.

"Let me make certain I've got this straight. You risked your recovery and upped your chances for potentially chronic issues because you were mad at your brother and wanted to show him up?!" John thundered.

Rose went still, reflecting for several seconds on what she had said and how John had interpreted it. "Admittedly, when you put it that way, it sounds quite stupid."

"And how exactly did you plan on keeping this from me?" John crossed his arms over his chest and watched as her face flushed with embarrassment. Whatever her plan had been, it wasn't a very good one, obviously.

"Well, considering the fact that I was caught that should indicate that I… uh…" Rose shifted uncomfortably in the chair, finding it harder and harder to look John in the eye. "Clearly that should indicate I hadn't thought that far in advance yet. I tend to have problems with forethought."

John was momentarily torn; on the one hand he wanted to chuckle and smile at the forlorn look on her face. On the other hand, he couldn't let her get away with this, no matter how adorable she looked. John had never once thought of someone who misbehaved being adorable, particularly not the young men under his command, yet that word precisely described Rose just then. The slight shifting in the chair, the flush of pink across her cheekbones and the way she kept nibbling at her bottom lip.

"This sort of thing is not okay Rose," John said sternly, digging deep for his no-nonsense captain tone. "Even if you had managed to go there and come home without my being the wiser, that's not okay. You have to understand that, but I'm really not certain you do." He paused to take a deep breath. "I'm going to try and get this across to you the only way I know truly works. Rose, bend over-"

"But John, my ribs!" Rose cried out, putting a hand over her injuries.

"Oh _now_ you worry about your ribs?" John asked incredulously. He pinned her with a dark look that made her squirm before continuing. "Of course you can't go over my knee with those injures but you can and will bend over the kitchen table." Getting up from his chair, John entered the kitchen and fished around in a drawer until he spotted what he was looking for.

Rose's eyes went wide as she watched him pull a wooden spoon out of the drawer. "John, I think we need to talk," she blurted out.

His eyebrow quirked. "We just did."

"No," she responded, shaking her head. "I mean about us. About us and… and…" Rose frowned, trying to pull her somewhat scattered thoughts together amid the usual dread that accompanied a spanking. "About us and _things_! Important things and… stuff." The thoughts were right there in her mind, but her tongue just couldn't seem to cooperate.

"Rose, either say what it is you're hedging at, or come here and bend over." John pointed at the table with the spoon before crossing his arms over his chest. He couldn't quite decide if she was stalling or actually had something important to say, so he wanted to at least give her a little window of opportunity to say it.

"But we're different now! I thought we were different now and that things would be different and we should really, really talk about it John," Rose finally managed to say. It still wasn't the whole of it, but hopefully he would understand the gist of it.

It slowly dawned on John what exactly she was getting at. The fact that they were now in a relationship had led Rose to believe that this would either no longer be necessary or no longer be acceptable, or some sort of combination of the two. For a moment his look softened and he let out a sigh.

"You're right," John told her. "We do need to talk about it. We probably should have before, but I thought our conversation at hospital made it clear to you so I didn't think about clarifying anything. But yes, we do need to talk and we will-"

Rose's face lit up.

"After your spanking."

"John! We need to talk about it so I can talk you out of this!" Rose exclaimed, the words rushing out before she stopped to think about them. "Er… uh…and also talk about it seriously," she added. She could feel the stains of scarlet appearing on her face, hot and uncomfortable. "I really did mean that bit," Rose clarified. "The legitimately talking bit."

The doctor scowled darkly at her. "Oh no, _no_. I am not giving you a chance to talk your way round me. Come here." He nodded in the direction of the table and expected her to get moving, but she just stared at him with wide eyes instead. "_Do it!"_ John finally ordered in his captain tone.

Looking as if she was walking towards her own execution, Rose hurried over to the table and bent over it. She kept her torso off the table, allowing her forearms to support her upper body and took a deep breath, trying to brace herself.

While Rose shored up a bit of bravery, John quickly closed the space between them. Belatedly he realized he should have asked her to take down her jeans, but he wasn't going to waste the time to ask her now. The spoon would hurt plenty through her jeans. Moving closer to Rose he put an arm lightly around her waist, resting his left hand on her hip as he tucked her against his side. It was a movement motivated by the desire to keep Rose from wriggling away as much as it was to offer her the comfort of physical contact.

Before she was really ready for it, if anyone _could_ be ready for a spanking that is, Rose felt the spoon connect sharply with her right cheek. She jerked at the intense sting the spoon created and let out a startled little yip as the spoon smacked that cheek three more times before moving to the other side to repeat the pattern. "Ow! John! No, ow! We don't-OW-need to do this!" she protested, trying to move her bum out of the line of fire.

John continued to pop the spoon across her cheeks with very little time between swats. "I love you, you know. Quite a lot, in fact. But your complete inability to compromise when it comes to your health is madness, Rose and I'm just not going to allow it. The sooner you get that through your head, the better for your bum. Do you hear me?"

He moved the spoon down to her sit spots, putting a fair amount of strength behind the smacks and adding a snap to his wrist. "Not to mention the fact that you were _lying_ to me, which is not something I'm going to accept in a relationship!"

The sharp sting made Rose rise up on her toes, letting out a pitiful sounding "Owwwiiiieeee!" Without even meaning to, her right hand flew back to try and shield her bum from the wicked wooden implement. "Ow, John please! _Please_!"

John's heart ached a bit at the sound of Rose's distinctly tearful pleas and struggled to force himself to ignore them. "Hand away Rose," he finally said sternly. "We're not finished quite yet." He didn't wait for her though, gently brushing her hand aside himself and set the fire in her bottom blazing once again.

Neither she nor John even noticed Sherlock return home during her spanking. Sherlock looked at them for a moment, an eyebrow quirked, then merely shook his head and confiscated John's laptop since the doctor was obviously not in need of it just then.

"I love you too much Rose to let you treat yourself so cavalierly," he lectured briefly. "I'm not going to have it and if this is what it takes to keep you safe and whole, then I'll do it _because_ I love you, you mad little thing!"

His words hit her hard and just like that Rose's tears began to fall. Instantly the spanking stopped and John put the spoon down on the table. "Alright love, alright," he soothed. John rubbed her back gently for a moment before helping her up from the table. Instantly he wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in his strength, holding her as tightly as he dared. "Shh, it's alright love. It's alright now." John smiled softly as she pressed her face against his shoulder and shook her head.

They stood there for a few moments as John held her tightly, letting her cry out her tears on his shoulder. Finally, when they seemed to slow, he kissed the top of her head and attempted to steer her in the direction of the couch for a cuddle. It was only then that he realized Sherlock was now home and sitting at the desk, having clearly broken John's latest attempt at a Sherlock-proof password. He shot his flatmate an annoyed look.

"You're very predictable John," Sherlock responded nonchalantly. He never even bothered to look up from the screen at the laptop's rightful owner.

John sighed, rolling his eyes at the man. "Yeah, and you're a git. You have-" He was interrupted when Sherlock suddenly crooked his finger, beckoning him over. He kissed the top of Rose's head and stepped away from her, intending to see just what it was that Sherlock wanted.

"Not you," the detective responded. "Rose."

"Rose? I haven't even had a chance to properly cuddle her yet!" John protested with a scowl.

Sherlock finally looked away from the laptop, his dark eyebrows slanting in a frown. "I'll give her back John," he said firmly. "Besides, she was mine before she was yours. Still mine," he pointed out.

"She is right here and is not a piece of property whose ownership shuffles back and forth based on the silly assumption that possession is 9/10ths of the law," Rose interrupted. Her sniffling took away from the harshness of her words, rendering the brief scolding rather ineffective.

"Don't be ridiculous, of course you're mine," Sherlock countered. "My very own little Rosie and so you always shall be. Now come here. Please."

Hastily Rose tried to dry her eyes with hands as she crossed the room and allowed her big brother to hug her tightly.

"Was big bad John mean to you?" Sherlock asked, cuddling her close. He shot John a glare not unlike the one he always received from the doctor after spanking Rose, feeling as though turnabout was fair play.

"Big bad—Sherlock, come on!" John protested. "That's not even true and you know it."

"Yes," Rose said in a tiny voice, cuddling tighter against her brother. "He was so _very _mean Sherlock. The very meanest ever." She preened a bit as Sherlock rubbed her back, making gentle shushing sounds. Out of the corner of her eye she saw John's jaw drop, a look of confusion mixed with astonishment on his face.

…And she laughed. Sherlock's triumphant laughter joined her infectious giggles a few seconds later, the two of them dissolving into an absolute fit of laughter.

John stared at the siblings in utter confusion as they both began to laugh loudly, at _him_. "Oh yes, ha ha, very funny," he grumbled.

"The look on your face John!"

"'He was so_ very _mean to me Sherlock'" the detective added, mimicking his sister's voice before being consumed by laughter once more.

His hands on his hips, John glared at the two Holmes siblings. "You're monsters, the pair of you," he announced. "Here I was getting all concerned that I'd been too hard on Rose and it was all a game from the very start, wasn't it? Did you two coordinate efforts in advance or something? I don't know whether to be angry or impressed."

"We didn't have to talk about it. We did that to Mycroft all the time, though he never took us the least bit seriously," Rose admitted. "It just sort of occurred. Sherlock started it by calling you big and bad."

"You always glare at me as though you'd like to take my head off whenever Rose and I have a discussion and turnabout is only fair play John," Sherlock added. "Before I relinquish her for some actual cooing and cuddling-"

John's face instantly turned red and he gave the detective a truly scathing look. "I _do not_ coo at her Sherlock!"

"Of course not John," Sherlock replied without a modicum of sincerity. "As I was saying, or attempting to say at least, what, dearest sister, have you done?" An eyebrow arched as Rose's face flushed and he waited patiently for her to answer.

The doctor left the siblings briefly to find Rose's pain medication and bring her a dose, along with some water.

"I decided to go back to work so that Mycroft couldn't make me do anymore lines because look I'm all better now," Rose admitted. "It didn't work out well. I didn't have a solid plan to avoid getting caught."

"Lack of forethought as per usual," Sherlock agreed. "I'll take care of Mycroft." He kissed the top of her head and gently nudged her out of his lap. Once that was done he reached for his mobile and hastily typed a message to their brother.

'Rose will not be doing any further lines. SH'

"And five… four… three…" Sherlock began counting down. Just before he got to 'one' the mobile rang.

"What do you mean she is not doing anymore lines? I assigned her those lines, not you, and she deserved the extras for her behavior yesterday," Mycroft pointed out.

"I mean exactly as I said," Sherlock responded easily. "Simply put, brother, I am overruling you."

"Are you trying to pull rank on me Sherlock? I am the eldest in case you've forgotten."

"No, I haven't forgotten, I'm merely recalling the discussion we had a while back regarding Rose and her living arrangements. It ended along the lines of our agreeing that I would be the main disciplinarian now that she was at Baker Street. Surely that hasn't slipped your mind."

"You two seriously have conversations like that?!" Rose exclaimed, upon hearing Sherlock's side of the discussion. "You two are simply too much for any girl to bear!"

Mycroft scowled at his mobile. "Still, she-"

"No," Sherlock interrupted firmly. "I'm overruling you."

"…You can't do that!"

"I just did," Sherlock said with a smirk. "Besides, your plan backfired. Didn't it occur to you that rewarding her efforts at completing those initial lines by giving her more was merely giving her a punishment for good behavior rather than appreciating her good choices? She went back to work today to avoid doing lines, thanks to your efforts."

Mycroft opened his mouth to argue then closed it just as quickly while he considered his brother's words.

"Yes, I know you didn't see it like that," Sherlock supplied. "But that's precisely what you did and that's not a trend either of us wish to start, is it?"

"….No," Mycroft admitted. "Fine."

"Fine."

"Goodbye Sherlock." Mycroft ended the call with a frustrated sigh, knowing Sherlock was grinning with pleasure at having bested him.

Rose once again vacated John's arms when Sherlock ended the call with their brother, throwing her arms around him and kissing his cheek. "You're my favorite," she murmured with a smile.

"Haven't I always been?" Sherlock gave her a bit of a pout when she went back to John before finally turning his attention back to the laptop.

"Did you still want to talk, love?" John asked. "And maybe have some arnica cream?"

"Yes! Yes on both counts," Rose agreed. "Maybe we could go next door so we don't disturb Sherlock, or vice versa?"

"Good idea. Go on, I'll meet you in there in a minute." Giving her a smile he then headed for his bedroom.

Entering Rose's flat a few minutes he immediately saw that she was not in the sitting room. The reason for that was also apparent, as her couch was heaped with clothing that needed to be folded, a few items of which he clearly recognized as his own jumpers. John shook his head fondly and headed for her room where he found her lying on her good side, her eyes closed.

"Haven't fallen asleep on me, have you?"

Rose opened her eyes and smiled. "Nope. How's this cream thing going to work? You've told me I shouldn't lie on my stomach."

"I think you'll have to bend over the side of the bed then," John said after a few seconds thought. "Up you get, jeans and pants down." For some reason the both of them began to blush at the same time when he said those words.

Rose got up from the bed and pushed her jeans and pants down to mid-thigh before bending over the bed. She cringed when John let out a low whistle at the sight of her bum. "Either you're admiring my bottom or it looks as bad as it feels."

John laughed softly as he uncapped the arnica cream. "A bit of both, but mostly the latter. You're quite red back here, but you won't mark. I should have told you to at least take down your jeans so I could see what I was doing."

"I'm glad you didn't! That hurt plenty even with the jeans." Rose hissed as he began to gently rub the cream onto her sore bum. "I'm sorry that I don't seem to care very much about myself. I don't always mean to be that way, it just sort of happens. I believe you when you say things, I just don't think about them when I want to be thinking about something else."

John leaned over and kissed the small of her back, smiling as he drew a little squeak from her. "I know Rose," he said softly. "I just worry about you and I also don't want us to keep secrets from each other. I don't like the thought of you possibly going in there today, coming home before I did, and then just keeping it from me."

"I really hadn't thought that far in advance," Rose told him truthfully. "It was really far more driven by the fact that I was upset with Mycroft. I deserved what happened last night, for what I said, but the additional lines… It's really hard to be thrown something like after you've worked so hard. Sherlock had the right of it, rewarding good behavior with more punishment and I didn't want that again. So I had a thought and acted on it without thinking further in ahead than how I felt in that moment."

"I was expecting this to happen eventually," John admitted. "By the end of the first week to be honest, but I am really proud of you for lasting three whole weeks. I do worry about you though, and wish you'd take better care of yourself. It's even more important to me now that we're together."

Rose nodded, looking thoughtful. "I'll try to be better, and I don't want a relationship full of lies either."

John put the cap back on the arnica cream. "All done love. I'm going to wash this off my hand then we'll talk a bit more." He ducked out of her bedroom and returned just in time to see her curled up on the bed on her side once more; her jeans a little heap on the floor, her legs bare, the bottom half of her covered by her pants.

"Going to put some bottoms on then?" John asked, arching an eyebrow at her.

Rose shook her head. "Hurts too much still for jeans. I'm more comfortable without them."

The doctor coughed just a bit. "Pajama bottoms then? Sweats?"

"Do I have some? Yes, but they're very far away from where I am right now," Rose pointed out.

"Very far away? Yes, your chest of drawers is ages away," he teased, shaking his head. "Are you trying to distract me or something?"

Rose frowned just slightly before her eyes widened. Her blue and white striped pants covered everything and she hadn't really thought about them as a distraction from the actual conversation they were supposed to have. "Are my knickers making you uncomfortable?" she asked sincerely. "I could grab a blanket or you could get out some pajama bottoms or something."

John smiled, even as he felt his face go a bit red. _You're a doctor_, he reminded himself, _you can have a conversation with your girlfriend even if she's in her pants. You talk seriously with half naked people all the time. _Rose was adorably sweet with her genuine concern that she might be making him uncomfortable.

He crossed the room and sat down beside her, pulling her onto his lap at last for that proper cuddle he owed her. "I think you're just trying to get compliments out of me."

Rose looked up at him, an eyebrow quirked, before a cheeky smile settled across her face. "Well, it wouldn't go amiss if amid a cuddle and serious discussion about our relationship to compliment me a bit."

Chuckling quietly, John then kissed her. "You have the most adorable bum," he murmured in her ear.

"I don't think bums can be adorable," Rose replied, her face growing red.

"Certainly they can. Yours is adorable _and _perfect." He grinned wolfishly at her, a hand sneaking down to cup one cheek before his voice began rumbling low and deep in her ear. "It's little and rounded just right, plus it's the perfect size to grab hold of."

"And that would be so much sexier and much more of a turn on if my bum wasn't hurting," Rose murmured, arching away from his hand a bit. "Another time you can write sonnets to my bum or something. Or my eyes or anything else you find lovely about me."

John laughed and opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off by slow, thoughtful kiss, her soft lips brushing against his own; it was a sensation he found intoxicating. It took everything he had to pull away from her a bit and clear his throat uncomfortably. "We had something we were going to talk about, didn't we?"

Rose nodded. "We did, yes. Though I suppose it doesn't require as much of a talk as I thought it might," she admitted. "And I'm not certain where to start."

"I will then," John offered. He grabbed a throw blanket from the end of her bed, covering her with it in case she got cold. It was winter after all and the building was a bit drafty! "Be honest with me love. Did you really think that because we were in a relationship I wouldn't uh… well…" He tried to find a more adult word for it but, upon failing, resorted to the typical word. "Spank you anymore?"

"I guess I did. It was more of a hope I suppose. I mean, I knew I was flirting with disaster and some serious retribution from someone for walking around and competing with a broken rib. I know that was stupid," Rose admitted. "But I worked so hard I couldn't _not_ go and at least try. I deserve everyone's anger for that, so I wasn't at all surprised when you threatened to smack me in the hospital. I thought after that, however, it might be done. Perhaps."

John held onto her a little tighter, though he made certain not to put any pressure on her injured side. "Honestly, I'd like it to be but realistically I don't think that's going to happen anytime soon. I certainly won't be looking for opportunities to do it though," he assured her. "I don't like being the one to make you cry, even if it's a well deserved spanking like it was today.

"Does it make you uncomfortable? Other than your bum I mean. Does it cross certain lines that I don't know about?" There was a lot he, and her brothers for that matter, didn't know about the eighteen months she was on her own. If there was truly an issue there, something that this hit far too close to home with, he'd reevaluate things. He truly hoped that that was not the case; not because he would regret giving up the right to spank her when it was deserved, but because it would mean there was an abusive relationship of some sort in her past.

"No! Nothing like that," Rose said firmly. That one night in Italy aside, she had never been the victim of violence at a man's hands, and she had left that particular man in much worse shape than she was! "I guess I would just like to be enough of a grown up that that is no longer an option on the table."

"It has nothing to do with your age, you know. It's everything to do with how completely mad you are. I love you and I don't want you hurt or in danger and I'll do anything I can to keep you safe, even if that means I have to spank you to do it. It's not about control," John added. "It's about love. I love you too much to stand back and let you do whatever comes into your head and end up half dead. You realize that, right? That it's not borne of some desire to… I don't know… hold you hostage or something? Control you and change you fundamentally?"

Rose smiled and laughed. "Of course I know John! That's not the sort of man you are, and if you were, Sherlock would've killed you by now for laying even a finger on me. I know it comes from a place of love, just don't expect me to like it, alright? No matter how it may look, I don't actually enjoy being in trouble. Getting called to task like that means I really have been wrong, disappointed someone I loved and made bad choices. I know all that. I was raised with all that. But…" Her voice trailed off and she frowned in thought as she tried to find the right words.

"But what, Rose?" John asked encouragingly. "Whatever it is you can say it, you can trust me, even if it's something you don't think I want to hear."

"I'm not sure if this is normal, that's what's been bothering me, or at least was bothering me earlier," she explained. "I've not been in many relationships, especially while I was away. I tended to move on as soon as someone got too close to me because I didn't want to… well, give my heart away again and have it blow up in my face again. So I just… I wasn't sure if I should be concerned or just assume it wouldn't happen anymore. I was confused I guess."

_Give my heart away again and have it blow up in my face again_. The words echoed in John's head and he tried to file them away for a later date. "There are lines of not normal. Abusing someone is not normal," John told her in a firm tone. "But you and I are not 'normal' in general, nor is any of your family or our whole living arrangement. And who is to say what _is _normal? Normal is what works in a relationship. So long as you don't think I'm trying to control you and as long as you trust me to not take it too far-"

"John that goes without saying, both of those," Rose sternly interrupted.

"Then we're fine." John kissed her nose and then briefly claimed her lips. "Our normal is okay for us and that's what matters. If something changes though, you have to promise to tell me. I won't be looking for chances to spank you, and hopefully you won't be giving me loads of reasons to consider it," he gently teased.

Rose smiled at him, even as she blushed a bit. "I don't go looking for it, which is why I was so upset with you earlier for telling me I should've just asked!"

"Well it felt like you might have been at the moment I said that," John told her. "And I still think your reasoning was ridiculous so I won't feel bad for doing it. But let's talk about something else, hm? If you rest up today and tomorrow and aren't hurting, I want to take you out. It's about time we did. Where do you want to go?"

She sighed happily and rested her head against his shoulder. "Angelo's? I love Italian and it's nearby so we could walk. Maybe after that just walk a bit, see if anything draws our attention? I haven't told Mycroft, by the way, about us."

"I assumed so, since I haven't been kidnapped off the street recently. Would you prefer a chance to talk to him first?"

"No. I love Mycroft very much," Rose said softly. "And I'm afraid he'll say no and the thought of that… Well, it frightens me a bit. We're very complicated, he and I. Parameters and all that."

John nodded, looking thoughtful. "So you want to go out a few times, see if we fit as a couple outside of Baker Street before you approach him about it."

"Yes. It's cowardly I know, but…"

"It's not," John hurried to assure her. "Everything can look different when in the outside world as compared to here. Not that I think we'll be any different, or if we are we'll just be better for it. If you need that time, to get used to one another that way, I'm alright with that. He's your brother, not mine, and you two are a bit of a puzzle that I may never figure out entirely. Know that I don't want to come between you and won't ask you to choose, should things go there."

"Oh god, I hope they won't," Rose moaned. Seconds later, she let out a great yawn. "Medicine is kicking in. Stay, will you? I'm quite comfy all curled up like this. Might I hold you prisoner until I fall asleep?"

John smiled at her, running a hand through her hair. "You can keep me prisoner as long as you like," he assured her. _Forever even_, he added mentally.

* * *

NOTE: This chapter took far too long in coming and I'm so sorry for the long wait. I've been half-drowning in grading, lecturing, classes and second job and this was the concerted effort of snatches of time here and there over the last couple weeks. I hope the length makes up for the wait. Thank you all for your patience and support for this story and Wildflower!


	5. Trials & Tribulations of Being a Holmes

Choosing an outfit for one's first date was complicated, Rose thought to herself. Something quirky? Comfortable? Semi-dressy? Dressy? Pants or skirt? Maybe a dress would be better! Something soft and feminine, or something with a loud pattern? If she went with a pattern, how loud was too loud and which was the appropriate pattern for their planned activities? And then what about shoes? Oh god, the shoes! The questions were endless and, unable to arrive at a decision on her own, Rose wisely called for reinforcements.

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard come out of your mouth," Louise chided upon her arrival at Rose's flat. She strode across the floor and into Rose's room, throwing open the closet doors to survey all that was before her. "Yeah, I see what you mean. Not a shred of decent clothing to be found in a wardrobe four times the size of mine!"

Rose laughed, shaking her head. "If you took better care of your clothes-"

"Or had them professionally tailored, if not bespoke," Louise countered. She gave Rose a look of disdain before bursting into laughter. "You're my favorite person in the whole world, you know that? Only you could ring me up and say you have nothing to wear when you have…" The redhead frowned as she scrutinized the contents of the closet once more.

"What?" Rose asked, getting up to stand beside her best friend. "What's wrong?"

"How in the world could I have missed this? After all these years, being your bestie and half-living at your house and growing up around your brothers! I really ought to be ashamed of myself that I haven't noticed this before," Louise murmured.

Rose stared into the closet with a discerning eye and noted nothing at all out of the ordinary. "I'm insanely confused Lou. You'd best tell me what's troubling you or we might stand here for an hour before I stumble upon it. Heaven knows your mind does not work in logical ways."

"If you weren't still recovering, I'd shove you for that," Louise laughed, looping an arm about Rose's shoulders. "I can't believe _you_ don't see it! Rose, you are so much like your brother sometimes that it's downright scary."

The brunette rolled her eyes. "Mycroft's been saying that for years, about Sherlock and I."

"Well then Mycroft is blind too because this," Louise paused to wave her hand at the contents of the closet. "Has Mycroft written all over it."

Frowning a bit, Rose surveyed her wardrobe and finally it dawned on her. Dear god she _was_ like Mycroft! Her clothing was sorted into types, each with their own section and from there was grouped into bunches of dressier occasion, work clothes, everyday items, and strictly formal items. Within each group the items were hanging together in order of color and not just all the greens together, but each color was in alphabetical order.

"Oh my god… How long have I been doing this?" Rose asked, her voice filled with both wonder and horror.

Louise shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not quite sure. It's been forever since you and I were able to share clothing and this is the first time you've ever asked me to dress you-"

"Help me select an outfit," Rose interrupted. "I am perfectly capable of dressing myself." The two girls grinned at each other.

"I haven't inspected your closet thoroughly in some time, since you keep your competition outfits in front. Who knows? Maybe it's emerged because you're bored out of your mind here at home resting? Could be a habit that's existed for quite some time, who knows? What I do know is it's slightly terrifying," Louise decided.

"You know what's more terrifying?" Rose asked. "The fact that you remember how Mycroft organizes his closet. Though we did have a significant amount of time to dwell on his organizational skills that afternoon we were hiding from him in there."

Louise grimaced at that particular memory. "Those scorch marks on your Mum's granite counter from those hot pans of biscuits. How did we not remember to put anything under the pans? We remembered to use a glove to take_ out_ the pans."

"I have no idea, but I didn't look at biscuits quite the same way again for a while after that particular spanking. He was far angrier about the scorched counter and didn't see the wall until I was stupid enough to point it out," Rose said, shaking her head. "And poor you! You wouldn't go near him for a month afterwards!"

"I pitied you greatly after that, learning first-hand how awful a Mycroft spanking was," Louise admitted. "Anyway, back to your enormous wardrobe and an outfit for tonight. First date, so exciting!" She hugged Rose tightly, the two girls sharing a grin with one another. "So what sort of look do you want to go for?" the redhead asked. "The 'I'm so sexy and gorgeous' look, or a 'let's skip dessert and go back to my place' look, or an 'I'm unique and adorable' look? Personally I vote for the 'let's skip dessert' look."

Rose frowned and repeated the phrase mentally, its meaning dawning on her after a few seconds. "Louise! It's the first date! We're not doing… _that_! You're a horrid example, you know that?"

Louise merely grinned. "Oh, I know. You need a bad example," she decided. "But do as I say, not as I do, right? Seriously though, you two have known each other for months. There's nothing wrong with looking eminently fuc-"

"No," Rose cut her off. "Just no Louise. Honestly, you're not turning out to be much help." She could feel her face growing red at the direction this conversation was going, feeling a bit out of her element. "It's the first date Louise, and you can be sexy and gorgeous without having to advertise that you want to have sex that very minute. Besides, even if I wanted to do that- which I don't!" Rose reiterated. "I'm not on any birth control."

"That can be easily fixed. Go see my ob-gyn, get checked out and get a prescription," Louise told her. "Though do it sooner rather than later. You never know when he might sweep you off your feet and carry you straight to a bed." She began imitating the cheesy sort of music one might find in a cheap adult film until Rose's face went as red as the flower that shared her name.

Her face was going to burst into flame at any second, Rose was certain of it! She hadn't even thought that far in advance of things. "It's just the first date!" she squeaked.

"You've known each other for several months now," Louise pointed out. "Not that I'm saying you should get in bed with the man post haste or anything, just, be prepared for when it happens. And try not to blush quite so brightly or look so worried when it does, or you might put him off!" she laughed.

Rose couldn't help laughing along with her. "You're right, I know," she It's just… it's John and I don't want to ruin this."

"You're not going to mess this up you know." Louise reached for Rose's hand and squeezed it hard. "John's a good one, you've finally picked a good one and now that he's figured out you're the best thing that could ever happen to him, everything will be great. But it all starts with looking good and feeling confidant on your first date!"

* * *

Thirty minutes later Rose ran next door in just her dressing gown, calling out "John, John, John!"

"Rose, Rose, Rose!" the doctor called back from the kitchen. He grinned broadly as she narrowly missed running into Sherlock who was pacing around the sitting room.

Walking at a more sedate pace, after the near run-in, Rose entered the kitchen to find John about to pour a cup of tea. She stopped, put her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow. "And just how many cups of tea have you had today, John Watson?"

John had to force himself not to laugh at her mock stern look, trying to look so authoritative with her hands on her hips. She was just a slip of a girl, as the saying went, so the sight was quite comical. He raised an eyebrow of his own in return and imitated her stance. "I could ask the same of you Rose Holmes. But I'll offer you a cuppa instead. Join me?"

"We're leaving in forty minutes, there's no time for tea," Rose exclaimed. "I still need to finish getting ready!"

"So the dressing gown isn't your apparel for the evening then?" John asked the question with a straight face and conversational tone but was unable to hide a grin when she blushed.

Rose tossed her hair before defiantly raising her chin. "No, it is not. Disappointed?" Her eyes glittered with mischief.

"Dreadfully so," he deadpanned.

She tried her best to look put out with him but Rose couldn't stop the laughter from bubbling over. "Beastly man!" she accused amid giggles.

The laughter quickly stopped when John put his tea down and reached for her with both hands. He pulled her close, the touch of his hands making her heart flutter. John leaned his forehead against her own and said in a voice barely above a whisper, "Beastly hm? Does that make you Beauty then?"

Rose was about to close the few inches between their lips and capture his with her own when they were quite rudely interrupted.

"She prefers Cinderella John, which would make you Prince Charming," Sherlock quipped while still pacing. "Despite the lack of similar circumstances that would enable a small child to feel affection for and a connection to a fairytale figure, that one has remained Rose's favorite all her life."

The youngest Holmes closed her eyes and let out a soft sigh. "Sherlock… timing."

Sherlock ceased his pacing and looked over towards the kitchen where Rose and John were still holding on to one another. "Oh."

"ROSE!" Louise's voice now entered the mix, announcing her entrance in to the flat. "How long does it take to ask about shoes?"

"Oh! John, I came to ask if I could wear heels tonight," Rose suddenly remembered.

A slow smile spread across the doctor's face. "Are you dressing up for me?"

"Don't be silly, I was practically born in heels and wear them all the time. I dress for my comfort, John Watson, not to impress you," she teased. "Though if I happen to please you while also pleasing myself, then I'll be quite satisfied."

John laughed and shook his head. "Born in heels, hm? Well I can't say they aren't a good look for you," he admitted. "But I think you should still hold off on those until your six weeks is up. I don't want to take any chances of you losing your balance and falling." He pulled her a little closer, his lips brushing her cheek before whispering in her ear, "I'm so proud of you." It was rather significant in John's book that she had even thought to ask about it.

"Alright, alright, snog her later after I've made her sexy," Louise interrupted loudly. "At this rate you'll miss your reservations and never even bother to leave the building, let alone the flat!"

Rose tilted her head up and gave John a brief kiss before Louise managed to drag her away.

* * *

A short time later John was about to knock on Rose's door when it suddenly flew open, revealing Louise. The redhead scooted out of the way and went to stand by Sherlock who was hovering in the doorway of his own flat, everyone seemingly waiting for the youngest Holmes to appear. When she did, John's face lit up brightly as he looked her up and down.

Her hair was done in a waterfall braid, the remaining length of her curls spilling onto her shoulders. It was a stunning style that somehow managed to look completely effortless on her. John noticed she wore no make-up and that made him smile even more because she was so pretty she didn't even need it. Not to mention it might cover her freckles! Rose's outfit was undeniably her: a knee-length dress with little cap sleeves, it was a bright almost neon green sprinkled with tiny white flowers. It was accented with a hot pink belt, matching shoes, and small neon pink hoops in her ears as well. The outfit was every bit Rose, bright and fun, yet feminine and a bit eclectic all at the same time.

It was only when Louise rather loudly cleared her through that John realized he was still staring and hadn't said even a word while Rose was beginning to blush uncomfortably. "It's too bright isn't it? Too loud," Rose reflected. "I'm sure Angelo will hold our table and I can go change really quickly. Honestly, it wouldn't take me very long."

"No, don't," John immediately replied. "It's so… you. It's like you in a dress."

Rose snorted before beginning to laugh. "Well I am wearing a dress so technically it is me in a dress."

It was John who blushed a bit this time, the heat that he could feel on his face undeniable proof of that fact. "I meant that more metaphorically. It's like you made into cloth. Okay, that didn't exactly sound any better… Your personality in fabric form?" Somewhere in the past two minutes he'd clearly lost the ability to make any sense at all and John was a bit disconcerted by that fact.

"Oh dear god they're hopeless," Louise moaned to Sherlock. "John likes it, you like it Rose, everyone likes it, are we agreed? Excellent." She didn't even wait for a response before declaring it to be 'excellent.' Louise then looked at Sherlock and elbowed him gently in the ribs. "Say something," she whispered rather loudly.

Sherlock looked down at her and frowned before turning his gaze towards Rose. "You look very pretty," he said sincerely.

"Sherlock, you're such a dolt," Louise decided, elbowing him again. She squeaked when Sherlock elbowed her in return, albeit gently, but his elbow was sharp! "Say something to _them_. You know, like you do whenever some guy comes to get Rose for a first date."

The middle Holmes looked downright confused now, something he very much hated. "Louise, you are speaking nonsense and I have no idea to what you are referring."

The redhead rolled her eyes. "You know-the _things_. The dad type things. Treat her nicely, bring her home by curfew. Make some vague threat about great bodily harm if he doesn't. Haven't you ever done that before?"

"No, typically that has been Mycroft's department and I really fail to see why such a conversation would be necessary in this instance," Sherlock retorted. "This is John." That, as far as he was concerned, rendered any sort of conversation of that nature rather mute.

"I'm so confused," John whispered to Rose. "And a bit frightened that even Sherlock looks confused just now."

"Louise is trying to get Sherlock to be playful and tease us but he doesn't understand the necessity of it, mainly because there isn't a need for it. I sometimes don't understand my life, and this is one of those times," Rose admitted. "We're leaving now!" she announced rather loudly. "If someone would please pass me my coat, we're leaving!"

Shooting Louise an irritated glance, Sherlock reached into the flat and pulled her coat off the hook. Somehow most of his sister's shoes and all of her various coats seemed to collect in his and John's flat rather than Rose's own, something for which he could find no discernible reason for.

Rose readily took the coat from her brother and slipped it on before doing up the buttons and heading down the stairs with John right behind her. When they exited the building they took one look at each other and began laughing. "My personality in fabric form? Really?" She could hardly get the words out she was laughing so hard.

John shrugged sheepishly before reaching for her hand. "Come along you, we're running late as it is!" As he got his laughter under control he silently marveled at how perfectly her hand fit in his, their fingers interlaced.

"You've grown very quiet," Rose commented as they rounded the corner of the block. "What are you thinking about?"

The doctor coughed a bit before responding with, "Your hand."

Rose frowned a bit in confusion at his comment. "My hand?" she asked. "What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing; nothing at all in fact," John hurried to assure her.

"Are you nervous too?" Rose questioned, her voice barely above a whisper.

Her questioned caused John to become immediately concerned. He let go of her hand, circling her waist with his arm instead. "What are you nervous about?"

She took a deep breath before responding to his question. "I don't want to mess this up and I'm scared that I will. I'm not good at any of this."

They came to a stop a few feet from the entrance to Angelo's as John turned her towards him. He cupped her cheek with his hand, brushing his thumb gently across it. "Don't you think I should be the one worried about mucking this up?" John asked quietly. "Considering what a fine job of it I was doing to begin with? I think we're both starting on equal footing here, yeah? Now smile for me, love. Come on, give me a smile or I'm really going to start worrying."

Unable to resist his gentle encouragement, Rose gave him a smile that brought the sparkle back into her eyes and tried to let her anxiety disappear in its wake.

"Well hello smile, lovely to see you again," John quipped, giving her a cheesy grin. "Now come on, let's go in. Angelo's already spotted us and is waving rather frantically from the entrance." Taking her hand once more, they hurried inside and let Angelo fawn over them for a few moments before being shown to a table.

"So when did you start dancing?" John asked. While it felt as if he had known Rose for a long time, he knew there was a lot about her that he didn't know and a lot she didn't know about him.

"When I was three. Started ballet, added tap the next year and ballroom when I was six," Rose responded before sipping her coffee. "I won my first title at nine. The plaque is still hung up in my Mum's room."

"Nine? You've been competing since you were nine?" It made sense that she would have started young, but John had never realized quite how young she'd been. He tried to picture what Rose would have looked like then, the image he conjured making him smile.

"Why are you smiling? And I won a title at nine, started competing with ballroom at seven," Rose added, grinning at the look on his face.

"I'm trying to imagine how you looked back then," John admitted. "Teeny tiny thing, undoubtedly dressed in pink or polka dots, curls everywhere, wearing miniature heels on those impossibly tiny feet of yours. God, I bet you were adorable."

She laughed softly. "My adorableness would depend entirely on who you asked and how much of a terror I'd been that day," she said, blushing a bit. "I always knew I wanted to be a dancer. Did you always know you wanted to be a doctor?"

John shook his head. "I had all sorts of things I wanted to do when I was young. I thought about being a firefighter, then an aeroplane pilot, all the types of jobs little boys dream about having. But I was fourteen when I decided I wanted to be a doctor, because I cared about people and wanted to help them. I discovered I was sort of good at it when my gran came to live with us for a while before she passed and I helped Mum take care of her. From that point on I had my heart set on it.

"You know what I would love to do sometime?" John asked. When Rose shook her head, he continued. "I'd love to see your whole process that you go through for a dance. Frankly I don't understand how you hear music, put movements to it, and then make it look so bloody amazing and I'd really like to know how that happens."

Rose beamed brightly at him, feeling quite pleased. "I suppose you could if you really wanted to. It's not always that much fun, and sort of hard to put into words. I kind of have to listen to the music repeatedly until I can feel it. Feel the beat," she clarified. "Then, depending on what type of dance it is, I think about what types of movements work best with the music and fit the feel of it and then start trying those movements to see if they all link up well together. After that teach it to Alfred and then we polish it up together."

John nodded, finishing a bite of his food before responding. "How do you know which things to do for which dance? Are there rules of some sort?"

"There are, but you want to be clever about it too. You can't just do the basic required moves and expect to win anything. You've got to put your on flair in it or you don't stand out. It's complicated, but it all makes sense in my head, I swear!" Rose laughed. "Now it's my turn again. Why the army? Why be an army doctor and not just a regular one from the start?"

"Well, for starters, medical school is expensive. My family didn't have the sort of extra funds to set up some savings for Harry and I for college so I knew I'd have to find some way to pay for it. My dad was in the army and I thought I could do well there as a doctor. People in the army need good doctors so much. War is more remote now, to a certain extent, since we aren't charging each other with swords, but with each change in weaponry more damage is done to a person," John explained.

Rose nodded slowly. "The distance might be greater between combatants but the technology that makes that possible causes greater devastation to soldiers and everything. The environment, civilians, surrounding areas, everything."

"Exactly!" John's face lit up with pleasure at Rose's comprehension. Not that he expected any less, but there were few people with whom he could talk about Afghanistan with. "They needed good doctors, who could think on their feet and patch those men up and be brave enough to care for them even in the most nightmarish circumstances and I thought I had that in me. I thought I could be that good."

Her mouth curved into a thoughtful smile. "They were lucky to have you then," Rose decided with a firm nod. "And I happen to think you are a very good doctor indeed, John Watson."

A smile tugged at the corner of John's lips but he managed, just barely, to keep his face and tone serious. "And just how would you know, Rosenwyn Holmes? You never listen to a thing I say!"

Rose's breath quickened at his words, her eyes growing wide as her cheeks became warm. Then she caught the gleam in his eye and began laughing softly, hoping she wouldn't disturb the other patrons. Her laughter grew when John's own warm, rich laughter joined hers and they dissolved into helpless laughter, the other patrons be damned.

"You know what though," John said when their laughter was under control again. "I really don't think I'd have you any other way, my madcap girl."

* * *

A short time later, with dessert eaten and the check taken care of, Rose and John exited Angelo's. John immediately wrapped his arm around her waist, keeping her close as they stepped out into the cool night air. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Should we head back to Baker Street? I don't want to keep you out if you're getting a bit sore. We've done a lot of laughing today."

"That we have," Rose agreed, turning her face up towards his. "But it's been good. This has been _so _good, and I don't want to go home just yet. In fact, there was supposed to be this new club opening nearby and I thought we might walk over that way and see if it is. It's not a club club," she clarified. "Much more laid back than that, or so I've gathered from the press about it. Could we go see?"

"Promise you'll tell me the minute you start hurting? I don't want you to be in pain love," John said sincerely.

"That's a very easy promise to make. Let me get the address again." Rose pulled her mobile out of her purse and quickly googled the name of the club. "Yeah, it's just four blocks away. Come on, let's go check it out." She tugged on John's hand as she set off in the direction of the club.

"It's a good thing I actually want to go with you otherwise you'd be hard pressed to make me move anywhere," John pointed out with a laugh.

"I'm stronger than I look," Rose pointed out as they fell in step beside each other. "Don't let my petite size fool you! I could seriously kill someone with my legs."

That put quite an interesting mental image in his head, John silently reflected. "Like that girl in Goldeneye? One of those ones that's very pretty but with a stupid name."

Rose stopped in her tracks and turned to him, her jaw dropping. "You're a Bond fan… How did I not know this? How did I not know this? John you're perfect!"

John suddenly found himself with his arms full of Rose. Unable to resist the urge to do so, he spun her around a bit before setting her back on her feet. "How did I not know you were a Bond fan either?" he asked, looking bewildered.

"I have no idea," Rose admitted with a shake of her head. "And the girl's name was Xenia Onatopp, so yes, stupid name. Literally killer legs. Oh, the irony of it all!"

"You're brilliant," the doctor murmured. He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled as much as he had tonight. Yet another tugged at his lips as Rose slipped her arm through his and began directing them towards the club once more. "So, I'm perfect am I?"

The slight girl beside him let out a laugh. "Apparently so John, apparently so."

"You going to remember that the next time I scold you about something?" John just couldn't resist giving her a smirk while she narrowed her eyes at him.

"I've resolved that there will not be a next time," she explained in a firm tone.

John made a brief humming noise and nodded his head. "I estimate that will last a whole… four days," he decided. "Yes, four days maximum."

"That's terrible!" Rose laughed, playfully slapping his arm. "How dare you have such little faith in me? If I say there shall not be a next time, there shall not be a next time!"

"There will always be a next time because you, my darling girl, are incurably naughty," John teased.

Rose's face flushed as she sucked in a breath. "Say that again," she requested softly.

John frowned a bit. "That you're incurably naughty? I was teasing, mostly."

The loose curls about her shoulders shifted as Rose shook her head. "No, the other part."

"My darling girl?" John watched her nod curtly, acknowledging he'd said the right thing this time.

For some reason, the spontaneous moniker John had given her went straight to Rose's heart and made her feel strange. Very strange and very wonderful in a way she couldn't quite explain. "I like that a lot," she finally said.

"Then I'll say it a lot," John immediately responded. "When it's just you and me, yeah?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "And I'll have to think up something to call you."

"As long as it's nothing ridiculous I don't have a problem with that," he said with a nod.

"So calling you my love muffin is out?"

"Your _what_?" John asked loudly, turning his head to give her a scathing look. "No, that one is not going to happen, I mean-"

Rose was nearly doubled over with laughter at this point. "Oh my god, the look on your face! Oh John, your _face_! That's the funniest look I've ever seen in my life!" She might have kept laughing for quite some time if a shooting pain hadn't interrupted her. Rose let out a moan and pressed her hand to her ribs.

"Alright, time to go home now," John said firmly. "Take a second, catch your breath, and then we're going home."

"But the club-"

"If it just opened, it'll still be open in a few days time. We've been far too silly this evening and it caught up with you. I was worried it might," John admitted. "Thankfully we aren't far from home. Can you walk okay, or should I try to get us a cab?"

"I think I'll be alright, just give me a second," Rose told him. She slowed down her breathing as he'd taught her to do, riding out the wave of pain until it eased. "Sorry to ruin our date," she said softly as they began heading back to Baker Street.

"You didn't ruin anything, love," John murmured. "It's been a really great evening. One of the best I've had in a really long time with anyone to be honest."

Rose nodded. "Same here. I'm so glad you finally came round John, truly."

"Me too," he said with conviction. "Me too."

* * *

Two hours had passed since they had returned home and gone straight to Rose's flat, Sherlock reflected. For the past fifteen minutes straight he'd be listening to the same song over and over again and he was going to go mad if he heard it even one more time! What exactly they were doing he had no idea, but that song must be stopped.

Retrieving the key, Sherlock let himself into the flat. The song, he immediately realized, was playing on repeat on a DVD menu while John and his sister were fast asleep on the couch. John had his arm protectively around her with one hand holding a now melting ice pack to her side. Sherlock crossed the room and turned off the electronics, sighing in relief that the stupid _Goldfinger _song was no longer playing.

With great care he then turned his attention to his flatmate and sister, beginning with easing the ice pack off of Rose and returning it to her freezer. Lastly, he found a blanket and covered them both with it, making certain it was tucked in snuggly around Rose in particular before he left and locked the door behind him.

* * *

Two days later Rose found herself in an ob-gyn's office wearing an unfortunate paper gown. This had seemed like a good idea originally. Go in, get the annual check that apparently she should have started getting a few years back, and emerge with birth control in anticipation of someday having sex with John.

She had, however, not anticipated that the exam would be a pelvic exam! Or that there would be a paper gown involved, or even that horribly intrusive questionnaire she'd been forced to fill out. Who asked those sorts of questions?! Clearly, Rose thought, she should have asked someone a few more questions herself!

A knock at the door roused Rose from her thoughts and she plastered a smile on her face when the doctor walked in.

"Hello! I'm Dr. Fields, you must be Rose… Uh, how do you say your name exactly?" the doctor asked.

"It's said "roz-en-win" sort of like Rosalind, but you can call me Rose. Rosenwyn is just too formal and silly, and I'm pretty sure my parents just made it up actually."

Dr. Fields laughed as she made a few notes on the chart regarding Rose's name. "Rose will do just fine then," she agreed. "So I understand you're here for your first exam and to discuss some birth control options, correct?"

"Yes. I'm not entirely sure what to expect to be honest. I rather wish I'd asked someone some questions before I made the appointment," Rose admitted.

"Well I'll be certain to walk you through everything before I do it so you aren't upset by anything," Dr. Fields told her. "And just so you know for the future, you're allowed to bring your Mum in with you if you like. Sometimes it's a bit comforting for young ladies."

Rose's smile wavered a bit. "My mother passed when I was ten," she said softly.

The doctor nodded, finding herself wondering just what her young patient knew outside of the information caught in school. "I'm sorry to hear that dear. We'll take things nice and slow. First off we're going to take a look at your questionnaire." She reached for the paperwork and began going over the information.

They went over Rose's medical history and as much of her mother's as she could remember but there was one final thing to confirm before the exam would proceed.

"And lastly, I just want to confirm that this is also correct- that you've had no sexual partners," Dr. Fields

Rose's face went bright red. "It is, yes. I'm still… uh…" She wasn't certain she could get the word 'virgin' out of her mouth.

"Alright, very good," Dr. Fields responded. "Now the first thing I'm going to do is…"

* * *

A short time later Rose left the surgery with the prescription she'd wanted, feeling relieved that things were done with for a year. She had never been so embarrassed in her life, she was certain of it! Why hadn't someone warned her?! "Oh right," she said aloud. "Brothers."

Across London, Anthea looked at the CCTV footage and sighed heavily as she watched Rose emerge from the surgery. This was not going to go over well, she thought to herself. Suddenly the idea of delivery tea to Mycroft Holmes seemed far less than appealing. He was not going to like this at all and there was really no good way for Anthea to say what needed to be said. There was nothing to do but simply bring in his tea and have an ambulance waiting on speed dial should the poor man have an apoplectic fit.

"I know that look," Mycroft said after giving Anthea an appraising look as she entered his office. "There's something you think you need to tell me but you're hesitant to tell me because I'll be upset by it." He watched her place the tea on his desk and then looked at her expectantly.

Anthea merely quirked an eyebrow in silent acknowledgement that he was correct and offered nothing further.

"You only have that look when the upsetting news involves my siblings," Mycroft continued. "You might as well tell me so I can begin to repair the damage before it spirals out of control. What have they done now? Did Sherlock attempt to purchase cocaine from a dealer I haven't terrorized yet?"

"No, sir," Anthea answered. She was a bit amused at the fact that Mycroft couldn't immediately tell somehow what it was she was going to tell him. Yet part of her was very much not looking forward to telling it!

"Well there's a ray of hope after all," Mycroft quipped. "It must be Rose then. Has she been arrested?"

"No sir, of course not," Anthea responded with a chuckle.

"Trust me, it wouldn't be the first time if that happened to be the case," Mycroft admitted. He gave a long-suffering sigh and reached for his cup of tea. "You might as well just tell me Anthea, how bad could it be if those are not among the scenarios?"

The poor man had no idea, Anthea thought. She braced herself for the fallout that was sure to come before beginning to speak. "Rose was just seen at a doctor's office."

Mycroft nodded and took a sip of tea.

"An obstetrics-gynecology practice to be specific, sir."

The tea he had delicately sipped from his cup went spewing across his desk as Mycroft began choking and sputtering.

Without missing a beat, Anthea reached over and thumped Mycroft's back until the choking and sputtering came to a halt. Yes, that had gone precisely as she'd anticipated.

"What in god's name was my sister doing in that sort of an office?!" Mycroft demanded.

"I'm not certain sir. Though given the type of medicine practiced in such an office…" Anthea's voice trailed off as Mycroft gave her a dark look.

"You cannot possibly be suggesting that my sister is _with child_," Mycroft growled. "Because that, I assure you, is completely impossible!"

Anthea moved just a few inches away from him, stealthily scooting the tea cup along with her. "Sir, she is twenty. Such things have been known to happen in the world."

"Not to MY sister they don't!" Mycroft thundered. "I am going to get to the bottom of this immediately!" Grabbing his mobile, he furiously pulled up Rose's number and hit the green 'go' to connect the call.

This was not going to end well at all, Anthea reflected. "Sir… sir... _Mycroft_!" She reached over and put her hand over the mobile. "Sir, you need to take a breath and think about this. It's a very delicate subject and it might not even be anything related to pregnancy at all. Try to think carefully so you don't end up accidentally calling your sister a… a… light skirt… sir."

Mycroft's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Out. I'm going to get a hold of her and find out what she was doing there with or without your approval. She is _mine _after all and I would like to think after all this time I know what I'm doing!"

With a nod Anthea left his office and said a silent prayer that Rose would not answer her mobile for the next several hours.

* * *

As Mycroft began repeatedly calling Rose, across London Sherlock looked up from the file on his desk and rubbed his eyes. Once they were focused again his eyes flickered over to the telly to see what had so engrossed Rose and John that they hadn't made even a peep for the past ninety minutes straight. What he saw, however, made him recoil, eyes wide with alarm. "Rose, why are there naked people all over the telly?"

"We're watching _Game of Thrones_," Rose replied, her eyes never leaving the screen.

Sherlock frowned a bit. "That does not answer my question-"

"Oh yes it does," Rose countered.

"No, it doesn't! Why are all those people naked? It's indecent! John, why are you letting her watch this?"

Rose paused the program as she began laughing loudly. "Sherlock, its HBO. That is what they do. Naked people, randomly, wherever they can possibly have a thin thread of a reason for it and sometimes even when they don't. Naked people aside and incestuous relationships aside, it's a really brilliant show."

"_What _kind of relationships?!" Sherlock asked, sounding more than a little alarmed. What in the world was his baby sister doing watching this?! "Where did you happen to come across this filth? John, why are you supporting my sister's consumption of pornography?"

The Holmes in question snorted at his indignant questioning of John. "It's not pornography and Mycroft sent it to me," Rose answered, barely holding back more giggles at the look of pure outrage on his face. Her giggles grew in volume when John began laughing as well, unable to hold it any longer.

A dark look settled on her brother's face. "That is not funny and I do not like being lied to Rosenwyn," Sherlock scolded. Crossing his arms over his chest he gave her a look that said she better tell the truth and tell it now. Lying was one thing Sherlock had never, and would never, tolerate from her. Even he had lines that were not meant to be crossed!

"No, seriously! After you overruled him about those lines, he sent this round with a note. It was a 'sorry for being a meanie, here is something from your insanely long Amazon wish list' gift," she explained.

Sherlock paused, considering this for a moment, before smirking gleefully. "That is marvelous. He didn't even have a clue he was sending you a program of this nature! How could Mycroft have not realized?"

"Well you didn't," Rose pointed out. She squealed and ducked when Sherlock hurled a pillow in her direction, which hit John in the face instead.

"Hey now, don't get me involved in this!" he laughed, tossing the pillow back at his flatmate. "I'm the innocent party here!"

Sherlock was about to reply when his mobile began ringing. He looked at where it sat on the desk with disgust. Everyone that was worth hearing from knew he preferred text! Besides that, all the important people were here at Baker Street. Well, not Gavin Lestrade, he admitted to himself, who might just be the person calling him. Sighing, Sherlock picked up the offending object and was more than a little surprised to see Mycroft's name on the ID. Mycroft calling him was never a good thing.

"What do you want? I'm busy." Sherlock answered.

"Do you know where Rose is?"

No sarcasm, no greeting; this was highly unusual. He looked over at Rose who was snuggled on the couch with John watching… well he wasn't quite sure what was going on, other than everyone needed to put more clothing on. "She's fine."

"Is she now?" Mycroft replied, the sarcasm now creeping into his tone. "Then why is she not answering her mobile?"

"How should I know? It's not my day to watch her."

"SHERLOCK HOLMES!" Mycroft thundered. "_Every single day of her life_ is your day to watch her! Where is she?!"

The middle Holmes cringed at the eldest's angry tone. "She's with friends and she's fine. Rose probably can't hear the mobile ringing or has switched it off because she's somewhere that it would be inconvenient for her to be interrupted."

By this time Rose had looked up from her place of blissful comfort cuddled in John's lap to frown at her brother. What in the world was going on? She opened her mouth but Sherlock frantically waved for her to be quiet.

"Something is going on Sherlock and I need to get ahold of her as soon as possible," Mycroft explained. "When you see her next, or hear from her, you tell her to call me immediately. Is that understood?"

"Why? What's going on?"

"Never mind, just have her contact me as soon as possible." The conversation then ended with a little click as Mycroft pressed the 'end' button.

"What was that all about?" Rose asked, frowning a bit. "Sounded like Mycroft was yelling."

"He was; apparently he objects to my saying it wasn't my day to watch you," Sherlock muttered. "Rose, you need to tell Mycroft about you and John. He's becoming suspicious and I'm not sure what he's upset about, but he's definitely upset with you."

Rose's heart dropped. Reaching for the remote she paused the DVD player and looked at John. "Could Sherlock and I have a minute? Please?"

"Of course," John readily agreed. "I'll go upstairs for a bit. Shout when you're ready for me, yeah?"

She nodded her agreement and smiled when he kissed her gently before getting up and exiting the room.

Sherlock quickly occupied John's vacated spot on the couch, upset to see Rose looking so anxious. "Mycroft isn't going to eat you, you know," he pointed out gently. "But you really do need to tell him. It'll be that much worse if he finds out on his own and thinks you've been keeping things from him."

"I know, but…" Rose took a deep breath. "Sherlock I'm scared he's going to say no and then I'll have to choose and I don't want to do that. Whatever I would choose, someone would get hurt, and it's not only myself that I have to consider here, it's you and John, too. How will this affect you both as friends if it all goes bad? I don't know how to tell him this Sherlock."

"You tell him very honestly, succinctly, and in a very mature manner. John is a good man Rose, and I don't think even Mycroft could fail to see that, even where you are concerned," Sherlock pointed out. "Most important of all Mycroft loves you and wants you to be happy. If John makes you happy than I do not see an issue. And you can tell him I say so, that I give my approval to this relationship." He scowled as Rose let out a snort and rolled her eyes.

"Oh yes, because you giving your seal of approval to things has always worked out marvelously well in the past," Rose laughed. She didn't laugh for long when he swatted her thigh, causing her to yelp a bit. "Don't be mean Sherlock. It's not my fault Mycroft doesn't value your approval on things."

"Well don't be quite so delighted about it," Sherlock grumbled, even as he wrapped his arms around her. "At the end of the day Rosie, remember that he loves you dearly and does not want anything to come between you two again. He might react strongly at first but, given time, he'll be made to see reason, I'm sure of it."

Rose smiled when he pulled her close and rested her head against his shoulder. "I hope you're right Sherlock. I really, really, _really_ hope you're right. I don't want to mess things up with Mycroft like I did before."

"You were a confused and hurt teenager back then," Sherlock pointed out gently. "And that was hardly your fault to begin with. I understood, once I knew what you were trying to do and was no longer convinced you'd gone insane." He wished Mycroft had been understanding or listened when Sherlock tried to warm him about why he suspected Rose was acting out. It turned out Sherlock had been right, but that was hardly any consolation for any of them as Rose and Mycroft's relationship deteriorated at breakneck speed.

"Things are different now," he continued on. "You're a young woman now and you've shown great maturity and growth since you've been back. Still a bit reckless at times, but that's just who you are. Eventually we'll spank it out of you, in another few decades or so." A meaningful pat accompanied his words, earning him a squeak and a scowl as Rose made a show of rubbing her bum. Yet for all her dramatics, she let out a soft laugh, which in turn drew a smile from him.

After a moment, however, his smile faded as his tone became serious once more. "Don't ever underestimate how much Mycroft loves you Rose. If you had seen how distraught he was while you were away, you wouldn't feel this anxious now about broaching the subject of you and John with him."

"Perhaps. Promise you won't give us away though Sherlock. Please?" Rose implored with a sad little look.

"Tell him soon Rose, I mean that. The sooner the better. But no, I won't give you both away," Sherlock reluctantly agreed. This wasn't going to end well, he was certain of it, but he wanted to let Rose handle it in her own way and had to trust that she would.

* * *

For the next few days Rose managed to dodge Mycroft's calls, returning them only when she knew he would be otherwise occupied. She knew that couldn't last forever, and that she should really just suck it up and get it over with, but she just couldn't. Not at yet. Soon, but not yet.

As the hours and days began to slip by, Mycroft found himself more and more often thinking about what Rose was doing seeing an ob-gyn. Surely she wasn't with child, that was just not possible! In fact, the longer he mulled it over, the more he began to worry that something could be wrong. Was Rose having medical issues? Was her health in danger? If it was, why would she keep it from him?

All these questions were on the tip of his tongue when Rose finally answered what had to be his one hundredth call. That was not, however, what he asked her. "Rose, I'd like to have you over for dinner tonight," Mycroft explained. "Are you free this evening?"

On the other end of the call, Rose looked at her mobile in bewilderment before responding. "That's what you've been trying to ask me? That's what was so important that I should call you back immediately?"

"Well you hardly answered me promptly," Mycroft pointed out. "I was growing concerned."

"And yelling at Sherlock all those times?"

"I always yell at Sherlock. It is what we do," he pointed out. "I'll send my car for you at 6:30."

* * *

Mycroft smiled at Rose as he sat down across the table from her. "I'm quite pleased you were able to come for supper this evening," he began. "You've been difficult to get in touch with of late. Out with friends, I understand?"

_That was one way to put it_, Rose thought to herself. "Mostly with John," she said slowly. Was now the right moment to broach the topic with Mycroft?

"How nice of him to keep you out of trouble." He paused momentarily as she made a face at him as per usual, and made a face of his own in return. "No interesting cases of late, I've noticed," Mycroft continued. "Sherlock must be climbing the walls."

"Shooting them, much to Mrs. Hudson's consternation," Rose laughed softly. "That's our Sherlock, never changes."

"Mmm," Mycroft hummed noncommittally. "I invited you here for a number of reasons, but one in particular is the driving force."

_Dear god, he already knew_. "Oh?" Rose struggled to keep her voice even as she tried to read her brother's feelings from his well masked face. The effort did her little good as Mycroft was particularly unreadable.

"There is something of some importance I want to speak to you about, but I am… perplexed at how to best broach the topic." Mycroft's smile tightened uncomfortably for a few seconds before he opened his mouth to continue speaking, only to be rudely interrupted by the sound of Rose's fork clattering loudly against her plate.

There was something odd about his tone and Rose felt her entire body go cold at his words, her hand unable to continue holding the eating utensil. "My… Oh my god. Mycroft, please, please tell me you're alright, that you're not dying! People start conversations like this when someone is dying, and you're not allowed to die!"

The eldest Holmes's eyebrows shot upwards at the vehemence with which Rose spoke. A bit stunned by her outburst it took him a few seconds to respond, during which her face became nearly ashen. "Rose, of course I'm not dying!"

Getting up so quickly that her chair toppled over, Rose rounded the table and threw her arms around him, holding on for dear life. "Don't ever, _ever_, start a conversation like that again My, please," she whispered, hastily blinking away the tears that had started gathering in her eyes.

"There, there," Mycroft soothed. He rubbed her back gently, an almost automatic response to having an upset Rose in his arms. "I do believe I will be bound to this earth for as long as it continues to exist and you are found within it. Heaven only knows who would keep you from harm if I wasn't here." He let her hold on to him for a moment, dropping a kiss on her cheek before gently pushing her away from him. "Yes, yes, all too much sentiment. Do go sit down already."

He waited for her to right her chair and sit down once more before starting the conversation over. "Rose, are you… well?"

This time it was the littlest Holmes who looked completely bewildered. "Well I've still got two weeks resting time before I can go back to work, but I'm healing just fine."

Mycroft sighed, realizing he would have to be more specific. "Are you certain? I only ask because it has come to my attention that you made a visit to a doctor two days ago. An ob-gyn to be specific and I'm concerned."

Rose's eyes flew wide as her face flushed a brilliant scarlet color. "Mycroft, however you came by that knowledge, please don't do that anymore. But I'm fine and there's no reason to be concerned. I'm fine, everything's fine, I was just getting a check." She reached for her glass of wine and gulped part of it down, wondering what circle of hell she was in that facilitated such a conversation with _Mycroft_.

A frown settled on his face. "A check? A check means there's a reason to be checked, or there has been in the past," Mycroft responded, his tone filled with concerned.

"No My, seriously. Women just need… checks," she tried to explain. Any second now her face was going to burst into flames it was that hot and red! "To… uh… make sure everything is fine. Which it is!" There was no way in hell Rose was going into the finer details of her appointment, let alone the fact that she was prescribed birth control! Whether or not Mycroft realized that she didn't really want to know, but it was entirely possible he was unaware and Rose wanted it to stay that way!

Nodding slowly, Mycroft processed this information. "So you're not unwell." That was one possibility eliminated then. What else would require a young lady to visit an ob-gyn's office, he mused. Then, it hit him, causing him to pause momentarily to brace himself for the possible answer to his next question. "Are you… have you…" Never in his life had Mycroft found himself at quite such a loss of words, or so fervently wishing the earth would open and swallow him whole. "Rosenwyn, are you…" _Think of a delicate word, _he mentally berated himself. "… Increasing?"

In the split second after he said 'increasing' Rose inwardly smiled, not realizing before how much her love of what she termed vintage verbiage, had been influenced by him. But that thought took only five seconds to process before it dawned on her what exactly he was asking her. Rose hadn't thought it was possible to be more uncomfortable or embarrassed until he asked that question. "What kind of question is that? You do realize how people get pregnant right? Do I look like I've had the time or physical capacity, let alone the opportunity to… to… for that to happen?!"

Coughing and shifting uncomfortably, Mycroft's face turned similarly red. "Good! That's very good. I know Mother emphasized that it was a wise choice to remain… chaste, shall we say, until you're married. I'm glad to see you were listening so that I don't have to have that conversation with you."

"_That_ conversation?!" Rose shouted. "How are we even having _this_ conversation? I have not had nearly enough to drink to have any conversation of this nature with you! There's probably not even enough liquor in the world to make this seem anywhere near normal. Good god Mycroft! Besides, I've got birth control now, so can we stop talking about this please?" The words left her mouth before Rose truly thought about them and upon hearing them she went completely pale, her eyes growing round and wide in shock.

If Rose had thought that little revelation would set her eldest brother's mind at ease she was very sadly mistaken, Mycroft thought wryly. Admittedly it took him a moment longer than it should have process that information, but he'd never anticipated those words, 'birth control,' being associated with his baby sister. What in the world did Rose need _birth control_ for?! The horror of it all finally sunk in and Mycroft responded the only way he possibly could in this situation: "That woman needs her licensed pulled! Prescribing birth control to a _child_? That is outrageous! How dare she?!" he thundered.

Pushing her plate away, Rose put her head down on the table. "My god, Mycroft, I am not a child! Nor do I have any need to tell you _anything_ about my body short of life threatening illness. I am a _woman_ and my potential sex life with my boyfriend…" Rose's heart seemed to stop at that word and she immediately changed tactics. "HOW ARE WE EVEN HAVING THIS CONVERSATION RIGHT NOW?!" Her attempt at a thorough dressing down thusly ended in a high-pitched shriek, accompanied by a good stamp of her foot.

Silence reigned as Rose waited for him to respond and Mycroft grappled with how to best do that. "Admittedly, this is not how I envisioned this conversation evolving," he finally said quietly. "I was legitimately concerned for your health. After Mother…" His voice trailed off as his throat seemed to close. "I wanted to hear it from you that everything was alright, first and foremost. The rest was… an unfortunate assumption that spiraled out of control."

Taking a deep breath, Rose attempted to rein her temper in. While Mother hadn't died from any ailment associated with her reproductive organs, his point was well made; he didn't want to lose her too. Understanding the sincerity and concern that prompted the original question, she could, she supposed, forgive him for his big brother paranoia that spawned the second question.

Rose once again got up and rounded the table to hug Mycroft as tightly as she possibly could. "I'm sorry I shouted. I didn't realize you were thinking along those lines," she whispered. "Although inquiring if I'm pregnant is rather shocking for a whole host of reasons. Let's just never talk about these things ever again, alright?" It was times like these that Rose missed her mother most, knowing the Holmes matriarch would surely have swatted him upside the head for being so very ridiculous. In that moment, Rose felt particularly bereft and, somehow, woefully unqualified at being a woman.

"And I am immensely sorry that I asked anything at all," Mycroft admitted, holding her close. "You must promise to tell me the very _second_ that there is even a suspicion that your health is in serious jeopardy."

There was absolutely no hesitation before she responded with a sincere, "I promise." Rose smiled as he gently pulled her into his lap and pressed a kiss against her temple.

"I apologize for-" Whatever Mycroft was about to say was rather loudly cut off as Rose's mobile ring tone went off, blaring lyrics from a Meghan Trainor song.

"_Baby, don't call me your friend. If I hear that word again, you might never get a chance to see me naked in your bed!_"

"Oh dear god," Rose muttered. She simultaneously rolled her eyes at the irony of it all as a wave of humiliation swept over her that coincided with her cheeks seeming to burst into flame. She pressed her face to the top of Mycroft's shoulder as the line played a second time before the mobile sent the caller to voicemail.

For several seconds neither of them did or said anything but it was Mycroft who recovered first, if one can call it a 'recovery.' Gently he pushed her off his shoulder and off his lap onto her feet. Crossing his arms over his chest, he quirked an eyebrow at her and asked in a frighteningly quiet tone, "What… was that?"

"A ringtone," Rose mumbled. "A very inconvenient one at that."

"I don't _ever_ want to hear that rubbish again, do you hear me? That's obscene Rosenwyn!"

With what little self-preservation she had fleeing her, Rose snorted. "Well it's not like the ringtone I assigned to you!"

Mycroft felt nearly overcome by the urge to strangle his little sister, but managed to restrain himself for now. "Oddly enough I do not find that comforting Rosenwyn. Is it any wonder that I find it necessary to keep an eye on what you're doing, if _that_ is what you consider appropriate? While we're on the subject just who is that vulgar ringtone assigned to?"

This was the seventh circle of hell, Rose was certain of it, because that was John's specific ringtone and they were entering worst case scenario territory in terms of revealing their relationship to Mycroft if things continued in this vein. "I'm sorry you think that's vulgar," Rose said with a sigh. "Look, this has turned into a disaster and I say we start over. I'm going to go back out the door, you're going to let me in again, and we'll start fresh without any of the nonsense we've been talking about. Please?"

Her tone and the look she gave him were particularly beseeching, and it gave Mycroft pause. A part of him wanted to find out what the hell was going on with his baby sister; another part wanted to pretend as if this conversation had never occurred at all. It was her next words that selected which part of him triumphed over the other.

"I'm so completely embarrassed right now," Rose whispered. "If we don't start our dinner over, I'm not certain I'll ever be able to look you in the face again without recalling all of this in detail and feeling horribly embarrassed. Let's pretend it didn't, please?"

Mycroft nodded his agreement. "That would probably be for the best." He smiled to himself as Rose headed towards the front door of the townhouse, determined to start their evening over. He waited until he heard the door open again before getting up from his chair.

"I thought that was you I heard," Mycroft greeted her as he came into the entry way. "I'm glad I caught you. I never did take you out for that celebratory dinner for your new title so I thought dinner at home might suffice while you're still resting. After we eat, I'll show you where I put that plaque of yours." Playing pretend had never come naturally for Mycroft, but he gave it his best effort just the same. Oh, the things he did for his Rose!

* * *

Late that night as Mycroft finally turned in for the night he began attempting to delete the disastrous first attempt at dinner. He was immensely relieved that Rose was not ill or pregnant but how he came by that information he would much prefer to forget. Why hadn't Mother ever warned him that all this sort of thing came with raising girls? He was so ill prepared!

Just as he was wiping the last of the conversation from his mind, one word caught his attention, standing big and bright in his mind palace. "Boyfriend…" he murmured. "Boyfriend. Boyfriend? She definitely said boyfriend." He moaned and closed his eyes, wondering when the trials of parenting ever ended.

* * *

The following day Mycroft made a considerable effort to find out just who this new boyfriend was. How had he not noticed there was one? How had Anthea not noticed there was one?

"She's spent a lot of time with Dr. Watson," Anthea pointed out. "See, there they are again." She clicked on a particular camera and they watched Rose and John walking hand in hand down the street. Rose was laughing, they were both smiling and then quite suddenly…

* * *

"Wait, wait, you did what?" Rose asked John. "You got what?"

John grinned and reached into a pocket of his coat, pulling out a pair of tickets.

"NO!" Rose shouted.

"Oh yes, very much yes," John laughed. "Here, take a look at them if you don't believe me."

Rose snatched the tickets from him, her eyes scanning them. Sure enough they were tickets for the Alfred Hitchcock film marathon at one of the local art houses. "Oh my god, how did you know?"

"You've only been talking about it and leaving notes around the flat about it," John replied. "I sort of got the message that you just might like to go."

She blushed a bit, looking slightly sheepish before suddenly throwing her arms around him. "Thank you, thank you!"

When she started to shout again with excitement, John quickly cut her off by smothering her lips with his own…

* * *

For several long moments Mycroft stared at the screen as he watched John Watson walk hand in hand with Rose and suddenly kiss her. And not just kiss her, but _kiss_ her.

Anthea said nothing as she watched her boss and the show of emotions playing over face. Shock, horror, embarrassment, and a lastly white hot anger that etched itself into his face. And she had thought his reaction to the ob-gyn appointment was bad! "Sir… don't do anything that you will regret," Anthea warned softly.

"How _dare_ he?!" Mycroft demanded, bringing his fist down hard on his desk. "HOW DARE HE?!"

Anthea did not have an answer for him.

* * *

NOTE: The secret is out! What is super over-protective big brother Mycroft going to do?! Give me your thoughts and suggestions!

ALSO I must beg a thousand pardons from you all for taking so very long to update this! Real life is big time kicking my arse right now. Please know I will update as frequently as I am able to and will try to do better! I hope you enjoy this long chapter and that it makes up for the wait time. Off I go back to grading the 135 essays I ignored today to finish this!


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